The Pawn
by MaryMagrathea
Summary: American Auror Lyra Black is being hunted by something dark that seeks to expose and destroy her for reasons she doesn't understand. At the behest of her long dead father, she reaches out to Harry Potter for help. Draco/OC. ***Rated M for language and adult content***
1. Chapter 1

***This story contains elements common to Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and assorted writings from Pottermore. I own not a damn thing. The wizarding world that I love so much belongs solely to JK Rowling and her big, beautiful brain.***

 **October 2008**  
 **Brooklyn, NY  
Monday**

Lyra sat, chin in hand, watching raindrops slide aimlessly down the glass of the window in front of her. She was tucked into a corner nook of some token Brooklyn coffee shop where she mulled over her predicament, her overpriced pour-over, micro-roasted whatever completely ignored on the table before her.

 _Why no-maj mail_? She mused to herself. That was one of the biggest questions she had about this whole thing since the letters began arriving some weeks ago. _I mean, if I was stalking or otherwise trying to intimidate a witch or wizard with correspondence, I'd send a howler or maybe a deranged owl to peck my victim in the frigging eyeballs...No-maj mail seems an odd choice._

The thought had long since occurred to her that, perhaps, her creepy friend was indeed a No-maj, maybe one that had learned the truth of their world and was out to expose. She dismissed that theory early on. It seemed that as far as earth shattering, world changing secrets are concerned, exposing the true parentage of one nobody witch in New York would be relatively pedestrian compared to the whole "Hey, there is an entire secret world of magic out there that nobody knows about" thing.

She considered it possible that her would be assailant (Blackmailer? Murderer? Surprise Truffle Chef? - the guy hadn't really made his goals known to her) was from the family of someone she failed to save in her work and they were out for revenge. _But they would have no idea about my father,_ she thought. _That that and the whole damn Brit thing...OK. Take a step back there, Auror. Spell it out. What are the things you know? Make a list:_

 _-You started receiving threatening letters 2 weeks ago_  
 _-The letters are straight no-maj and computer typed._  
 _-They are post-marked from different spots around Great Britain - London, Brighton, Edinburgh, Liverpool._  
 _-They always come on Tuesdays and Fridays, you have received 4 in total._  
 _-They all make reference to "your secrets" and/or "the sins of your father"_  
 _-They all are addressed "to my beloved Lyra"_  
 _-They are creepy as hell._

Being neither martyr nor moron, she'd already taken the problem to Patrick, her supervisor at the Aurors office. He was concerned it could be a retaliatory play from a raid that had gone bad or even a preemptive kind of 'psychological warfare', as the No-maj guys would say, to put her off her game prior to some dark offensive. She and Pat deemed both of these things unlikely in wizarding New York. Most witches/wizards in the city with a penchant for 'darkness' were typically satisfied sitting around dark clubs, wearing all black and selling hallucinogenic potions to rave-going tourists. Those that did manifest some actual dark powers typically did so by ignorant accident. Bored debutante teens and trophy wives seeking revenge on unfaithful lovers and the like. They'd had the occasional no-maj banker get in over their head with some dark artifact, usually purchased on vacation, to curse his rivals and expand his profits. The typical result wasn't so much increased profit margins as incurable boils and boatloads of charmed spiders.

To be on the safe side, the team had come over to scan her apartment for evidence of curses or surveillance spells. Even the nice transplant guys from the no-maj FBI came over and swept for "bugs" in case her stalker was some kind of magic hipster who liked to do everything the hard way. Nothing turned up. Not a damn thing. Magic or not.

 _This is bullshit_ , she thought to herself. _Why now_? She had no idea who her birth mother was and her birth father had been dead for years. Plus, being raised by the Blacks since her infancy, she and her father had hardly known each other. Sure, there was a group of racist fanatics that would have wanted his loved ones eviscerated back in the 90's when they still had some power, but now? Her understanding of the Death Eaters across the pond was that they were an embarrassing fringe group composed mainly of the mentally ill and oldblood Grandpas aiming to make Christmas uncomfortable for their grandchildren by waxing poetic about the merits of blood purity. It didn't make much sense why someone would be clocking her now, after all this time.

She sighed loudly and rubbed her eyes. Checking her phone, she saw that she was due at her parents house in less than an hour. She pulled herself reluctantly from her nook in the coffee shop and made her way out the door, discarding her untouched beverage in the trash. She walked several blocks south to a dingy pub called The Bell House that served as a gateway to wizarding Brooklyn, where her parents lived. Waving politely to Don, the beleaguered barkeep, she descended into the musty basement, passing by crates of cheap wine and bags of stale peanuts. The last step of the staircase that led her down into the basement served as the first step in an opposing staircase that would lead her up and out into Seven Bells, the bustling pub at the center of the small wizarding town, about a quarter mile from her parents' home. As she ascended the stairs, she passed crates of bottled Butterbeer and yet more bags of stale peanuts. Making her way out of the basement to the front of the bar, she waved politely at Ron, the beleaguered bar keep.

She made good time to her parent's home, arriving at the Brownstone 10 minutes ahead of schedule. Her dad hated tardiness and would perpetually snark about her 'priorities and proper planning' whenever she was late. It drove her nuts. Almost as nuts as other people's tardiness... _and now I see what he did there_ , she thought to herself before muttering the password to open the front door.

Stepping into the landing, she was greeted by the dramatic, earth shattering bellow of her parents Rottweiler, Bex. Rolling her eyes, she prepared herself for the assault. Bex, who had certainly never seen another human before, and double certainly had never seen Lyra before (even though she had been over 2 days ago) propelled down the stairs and smashed into Lyra's legs like a 75 pound canine cannonball. After several minutes and many belly scratches, he seemed to habituate (once again) to her existence. Extracting herself from Bex's furry embrace, she made her way down the narrow hallway to the kitchen where her mother was fussing over a crumble-crust and muttering something about "loud-ass dogs." Their conversation was simple and routine as her mother bustled distractedly around the room:

"Hi Momma"

"Hi Baby, did you pet that dog?"

"Yes, Mom I pet the dog."

"Good. Here, eat this, she said shoving a pastry into Lyra's hands." Lyra knew better than to resist. Resistance was futile. If Marla Calderon-Black offered you a crumble-crust, you better eat a damn crumble-crust or there would be hell to pay.

"Where's dad?" She asked, between bites.

"In the study."

"Ok, I'll go see him."

"Wait, Lyra! Did you eat the thing?" her mother called at her as she was trying to exit the kitchen.

"Ohmygod yes, Ma. I ate it. It was the crumble-crust of my dreams and I'll never be the same again," Lyra replied sarcastically.

"Oh good!" Her mother said without looking up. "Take one to your father."

"K."

Crumble-crust in hand, she ascended the stairs to the loft that was her father's study. He was reading some MCUSA environmental report on the near-extinction of the Horned Serpent. Alistair Black peered over both report and bifocals to zero in on his daughter with a pointed gaze:

"You're late," he remarked.

"Yeah, because Bex and Mom. Are you new here?"

"Are you? Proper planning, Lyra." He said with his trademark raised eyebrow. In her youth, Lyra had come to refer to it as 'The Dreaded Eyebrow of Justice.' Never got old...except for always.

"You are killing me right now, old man. Here, eat this thing. Mom says you have to." She plunked the crumble-crust unceremoniously on his desk.

"Of course she does" He quipped, eyeing the confection warily.

Lyra settled down on the leather couch across from her father's large wooden desk. She thumbed through a National Geographic she found on the side table while her dad finished reading his report. With a heavy sigh, he set it down and looked over to her.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about, kiddo?"

"I was wondering how I got here."

"Well, honey, you came up the stairs, I saw you do it. I'd give you a 7.5/10 for stair climbing while holding a crumble-crust."

"Dad."

"Lyra."

"I mean how did you get me? You know when I was a baby…"

"You know how."

"I know that I know. But take me through it again."

"Why?" Pressed her father.

 _Well dad, I'm being stalked by a crazy person who seems to be interested in my parentage so I'd like to pump you for clues if you'd be so kind_. She blinked hard at the thought. _Well, that won't do_ , she responded to herself.

"Because I like to hear you say how cute you thought I was." She countered sweetly.

Her father let out a decidedly humorless snort and began:  
"Alright, well your mother and I decided to adopt in the early 80s after your brother Caelum started at Ilvormorny. We'd heard about the terrible things going on in Britain and we wanted to help. International adoptions were rare at the time, even considering the number of orphans created by the war, but the Black family name apparently still had some pull over there so we talked to the right people and got on a list after passing the interviews. We waited for 2 years, had almost given up, when we got an owl from the Headmaster of their wizarding school of all people who said he had a little girl for us. 8 months old. She was ours provided we met 2 conditions. First that we change her name but retain her given name as her middle name, and second that, when of age, we send her to the British wizarding school twice a year during term and once during summer break for visits as a guest of the school. It seemed odd but we said we wanted to at least meet you, so we hopped on a plane to Scotland and went to the school to see you."

She settled her chin in to her hand, studying the way her father's features softened as he spoke.

"The headmaster brought you down the hallway in his arms. You were all wide hazel eyes, chubby cheeks and grabby little hands. By the end of the meeting, you had pulled out your mom's earrings, thrown my glasses across the room and relieved the headmaster of a significant portion of his beard hair. We knew you were trouble, your mom and I, and we loved you instantly. You were just...ours. We accepted the terms and brought you home 3 days later. We named you, and started sending you off to Dogwarts or wherever when you were 10 for your visits. And that's it."

"It's Hogwarts, Dad." Lyra chided, fondly.

"Whatever." He dismissed, rising from his desk and walking over to stand in front of his daughter still seated on the couch.

"And I was the cutest?" She asked.

"Absolutely. We'd have left you there otherwise. You'd have roamed like a parent-less mongrel around the Scottish highlands. Turned ginger. Moved in with giants. Maybe they could've taught you to show up on time."

"Not likely." She quipped turning up her face with an innate smugness.

"Yeah, probably not." He said bending to kiss her forehead.

They left the discussion there and joined Mrs. Black downstairs for dinner. Following that, they passed the rest of the evening pleasurably in front of the fire, talking among themselves and reminding Bex that he was the most important fuzzy being in the universe. As Lyra was saying her goodbyes, including a 10 minute overture of farewell pettings to said fuzzy being, her father pushed a scroll into her hands.

"What's this?"

"No idea. Came by owl yesterday, I almost forgot about it."

"Cool, thanks."

Lyra stuffed the small scroll into her purse without thought and flooed home to her apartment in no-maj Manhattan. She and her work friends jokingly called the island no-Majhattan because of the revolving door of no-maj transplants from all across the globe that came to the city to conquer the world of fashion or finance or whatever. She liked it, all the different styles, all the accents. It wasn't boring. Witches and wizards on the island were different. They were almost exclusively born New Yorkers. Lyra was technically a born Brit, but she certainly had the soul of a New York witch. Her and her city fit together like old lovers. She loathed to leave and only did so on rare occasions, especially after having left so much in her formative years to go to Hogwarts for 'tutoring' or 'educational enrichment' or whatever platitude she was fed to get her on a plane 3 times a year.

She was just about to lay down when she remembered the scroll from earlier. She fished it out of her purse and struggled, opening it one handed while the other held her bedtime tea. She got it flatish on the table, took a big 'ol swig of tea and proceeded to spray her table, her cat and the scroll itself with chamomile after reading the words...the words written in her dead birth-fathers handwriting, which she would recognize anywhere.

Lyra,  
You and Frog are in danger. Go to London. Find Harry Potter. Tell him the truth. He will help you.  
Fondly,  
Severus Snape

* * *

 **No-maj** \- Non magical person, muggle  
See chapter 2 for more definitions.


	2. Chapter 2

***This story contains elements from Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and writings from Pottermore. I own nothing. The wizarding world belongs to JK Rowling in all of her glory***

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England  
Ministry of Magic of Great Britain  
** **Friday**

Lyra stepped tentatively out of the red telephone booth that lowered her into the lobby of the British Ministry of Magic. The entrance funneled into a great atrium made of black marble, steel and glass. It reminded her of a more opulent version of the grand hall at MCUSA in New York. She technically worked there, but always used back entrances and side routes to gain entry to the Aurors office which was hidden within the building. The department itself was charmed and would change locations periodically to avoid predictability in the event of an attack. She wondered if that would be the case here in England.

The British Ministry of Magic was notoriously tight-lipped and it was only by chance that she had discovered that the Boy Wonder had become an Auror. Apparently Patrick had met him at a conference in New Delhi where Britain had made a showing for Commonwealth reasons. Regardless, they had exchanged contact information and Lyra was able to reach out to him directly. She expected, given he was a celebrity, that he would simply blow her off. That was far from the case, to her surprise. He had agreed to see her on her request, as soon as she was able, no questions asked. It made her nervous.

She stepped up to an information booth housing a small goblin. She was always struck by how much British goblins resembled American Pukwudgies that worked at Ilvermorny, her school. She always had a soft spot for them.

"Hi. My name is Lyra Black. I'm here to see Harry Potter in the Auror department. He's expecting me."

"Well, Lyra Black. You'll wait here like everybody else." The goblin replied in a grumpy, decidedly bureaucratic tone.

"Uh. What?" She asked, confused. The Puk...er...goblin suddenly disappeared behind his tall stand. Lyra assumed he had ducked off for a smoke or something. He reappeared moments later in a huff, nearly startling the briefcase out of Lyra's hands.

"Auror Potter is expecting you." He stated plainly.

"I know. I said that before."

"Now I'm saying it."

"Great."

"Take the elevator west to level RQ-6, then the stairs 3 flights down to AUR-8. Have a good day."

"Wha...thanks."

Lyra arrived, finally, after getting lost several times, at AUR-8 and walked into a spacious stone receiving area that reminded her very much of the common rooms at Hogwarts. She mulled around taking in the space until she felt a light hand on her shoulder. She turned and came face to face with the chosen one himself.

Most American witches and wizards knew a bit about Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The young man who defeated Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War in Brittain.

"Ms. Black?"

"Auror Black." She clipped

"I see. I'm -"

"Auror Potter, yes I know." She interrupted nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Auror." Lyra said, flexing her hands around her briefcase.

"And you, Auror." He replied, evenly.

She supposed that, while they were meeting formally for the first time, she had possibly passed him in a corridor at Hogwarts at some point during her cumulative time there. She took a moment to look him over, and she assumed he was doing the same. Aurors, you know...constant vigilance and whatnot. It was a habit. He was 5'10", late 20's, dark hair, green eyes, wedding band, dressed like a dorky dad (like her dad, actually) complete with terrible khakis. She paused in her scrutiny to wonder what he was seeing when he looked at her. 5'6", long black hair, hazel eyes, high heels, red lipstick, resting bitch face... _did Brits even know about RBF? They should, she mused, it's quite British actually..._ He snapped her back to reality suddenly -

"Let's talk in my office, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, lead the way." She said.

Once settled in a chair in Auror Potter's office with a cup of coffee she asked him the question she had been holding in since she walked in the Ministry of Magic that morning.

"Why did you agree to see me? A random American witch you've never heard of looking for ear time with Harry Potter? That sounds like some fangirl bullshit to me, and I'm the one doing it."

"Is it some fangirl bullshit, as you say?" He shot back.

"No." She chuckled.

"Why did you want to see me Auror Black?"

"I have a problem. I was told you would help me. That simple."

"Ok, let's see what I can do then. Call me Harry"

She narrowed her eyes. "Ok, Harry."

"Talk. Tell me what's happening."

Talk she did. She took him through the linear sequence, like any good Auror would do. This is when it started. Here are the letters. Their frequency. Typewritten. Lack of magic. When she went to her supervisor. The search in her apartment. She had to pause here because Harry got hung up on MCUSA aurors collaborating with no-maj (or muggle) investigative agents. She thought it was cute. She carried on, ending with the scroll she received at her parent's house. She produced the scroll for Harry and laid it on his desk. He studied it carefully before speaking.

"Auror Black, I haven't been completely honest with you."

"I know." She stated plainly.

He sighed heavily. "You asked me before why I agreed to see you and I didn't give you an answer."

"No, you reversed the question and used the false familiarity of being on a first name basis to distract me. Yeah, I noticed."

"Right." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "I need to show you something."

Harry then produced a small scroll that appeared very similar to the one already on the table. He laid it flat for Lyra to read. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw her father's spiky, ornate handwriting before her once again in so many weeks.

Mr. Potter,  
My daughter Lyra is in danger. She will come to you. You will help her.  
Regards,  
Severus Snape

Composing herself, Lyra looked up at Harry, who was regarding her sadly.

"You're his daughter."

"Yes," She replied.

"Bloody hell."

"Yep."

"So...someone is harassing you. Threatening to what? Expose you as the daughter of a sodding war hero?" he inquired.

"Well to be honest, I'm not sure...but it would appear so, at least in part. It makes little sense to me."

"Why don't you just expose it yourself? Severus Snape was an incredible man. He saved countless lives. I named my son after him."

"Awww. That's really nice." She remarked sincerely.

"Answer the question, Auror Black." He clipped.

"I had considered just coming out with it, until I got the scroll from Severus. I mean...I'm not the only one in danger here, Harry. I'm at a loss."

"That's right. Frog. Who's Frog?"

Lyra hesitated. _Who was frog? That's a loaded question_ , she thought. A friend. _An...Ex...kind of? Someone she hadn't spoken to in about a decade. Her occlemency partner. Someone she had loved with the kind of wracking intensity that only a 16 year old girl can muster. She could still feel the deep scars he'd left on her heart, long hardened by time but still sore with provocation. Provocation like knowing he was in danger. Because of some maniac? Because of her?_ She balked. _He knows about Severus. He knows and apparently so does this stalker. Why would they hurt him? Lord, if he's already told them, what's left to keep him alive? What is the end game here?_ Her head was spinning by the time Harry snatched her like a mother Wampus from her doomsday analysis.

"You still with me?"

"Yeah. I, god...he's my friend, a friend from Hogwarts, Frog is a nickname. When I was young, I would go to the castle twice during term on my breaks from Ilvermorny in the states and once during the summer to study. Occlemency/legilimency mostly, under Severus. I was no match for him as a partner, so he brought in another student he was instructing and we would practice together. He knows, Harry. He knows who my father is. If this lunatic sending me letters already knows too, which his letters would seem to suggest that he does, why would Draco be in danger? What does any of this matter, anyway? Death Eaters are pretty much done and most other people remember Severus Snape as a kind of dark hero. So why would that information coming out be dangerous? I don't get it."

"Wait a minute. You said Draco? As in Malfoy? Draco Malfoy is your Frog?"

"You know him. I mean, it makes sense that you would." She replied.

"Yes I bloody well do."

"Ah. I see."

"You have no idea." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, running his hands through his dark hair in exasperation. "Snape knew I hated Malfoy. Probably why he coded him in your message and didn't even mention him in mine."

Maybe," she mused dismissively. "Look, I'm not an idiot. I don't want to do anything that could aggravate this psycho, even more so if Draco's involved. I respect that you don't like him. I was his friend for years and most of the time I didn't even like him, but I'll not have him hurt for this. I'm afraid that if I call this guy's bluff and out myself, he'll hurt Draco. Plus, I don't even know what he wants."

Harry nodded then speared Lyra with a pensive glance. "Are the two of you still close?"

"No, not at all. I haven't talked to him in like 10 years." She replied honestly.

"Hmmm, interesting."

"Tell me about it." She quipped.

She and Harry spoke awhile longer about her situation, making little headway, before she retired to her comfortable room at the Leaky Cauldron, a short way from the Ministry. It reminded her so much of Seven Bells that it made her stomach clench with homesickness. She sprawled on the large bed, staring absently at the ceiling, thinking about the day. Harry had agreed to have a member of his staff make inquiries to see if anything was amiss with Draco or his family.

Lyra sighed, letting her thoughts turn to her old...friend. She recalled reading somewhere that he had married and had a son. Thinking of Draco as someone with a wife and family made Lyra feel even more guilty that he could be in danger because some psycho was obsessed with her or her father. Speaking of, she wondered if he had worked anything out with his own father. Awful man. Hateful. Lyra had only met him once, but it had been enough. He was vile and the amount of pressure he put upon his son was inhuman.

She knew that Draco and his family had been on the wrong side of history with respect to the second wizarding war. His father was a known Death Eater and a desperate social climber, from what Draco had told her. She had never considered Draco a blood purist like his father. She saw him more as someone acutely self conscious who desperately wanted to live up to the expectations placed upon him. She wasn't blind, plus she was an incredible legillimens and spent a fair amount of time poking around Draco's mind and memories as part of their studies with her father. She saw the false bravado, the bullying, the insults, the anger, but she also saw fear, confusion, thoughtfulness and fierce loyalty all bubbling in tumultuous complexity inside his head. _Interesting kid,_ she yawned, reluctantly letting sleep take her. She remembered only flashes of her dreams, but nothing that really stuck. Severus Snape's distinctive voice, bubbling potions, the smell of sandalwood, soft blonde hair, nervous kisses…

* * *

Lyra woke with a start shaking away the remnants of her dreams. She padded over to open the door to grab the morning paper and then proceeded to flop gracelessly back into her bed flipping open The Daily Prophet to the society pages, call it a guilty pleasure. _All this old money,_ she thought _. Rich people are weird and gross._ She read through birth announcements, deaths, engagements and then continued on to weddings, which were her favorite.

Nott-Greengrass  
Ms. Astoria Greengrass married Mr. Theodore Nott at a lovely ceremony in Devonshire on the 3rd. The bride was resplendent in emerald haute-couture and the groom was well vested in classic Italian robes, The bridal party consisted of Matron of Honor Daphne Greengrass-Iver and bridesmaids Gemma McNair, Sirena Sutton, Freya Bloodgood and Isolde Carlesen, Best man Blaise Zabini and groomsmen Damon Ivashkov, Lucas Iver, Salazar Harmon and Abel Bennett. Featuring as junior attendants were the grooms niece Illaria Nott and the bride's son, Scorpius Malfoy.

Lyra glanced down at the press photograph. She saw a beautiful high society wedding party with a small blonde boy in the front, maybe 3 or 4 years old, dressed to the nines, shyly clinging to his mothers extravagant and gorgeous wedding dress.

 _Huh. I'll be damned. He got divorced? I can't believe that woman let him name the kid Scorpius, I always thought he was joking about that. You know what? Nevermind. That's enough news for today._ As she flipped the paper closed quickly, a no-maj white envelope came tumbling out of the pages. She picked it up slowly, a hard pit of fear and anger welling up in her stomach. It was Friday. One of the days the letters came. She looked at the typed envelope addressed to her and noted the lack of a post-mark. This was number 6. She opened the letter and read, face passive but mind racing.

My beloved Lyra,  
Welcome home, sweetheart. How I've missed you.  
Thank you for bringing your beautiful self and your dark secrets all this way.  
I remain, your most devoted servant.

 _Ugh. This is the grossest yet. Your devoted servant._ She rubbed the side of her face roughly, lost in thought. She was to meet Harry this afternoon and they could go over this latest foray into bad stalker poetry together. She had to admit, it was unsurprising the behavior didn't stop once she arrived in Britain. She had all but painted the walls of her little efficiency with protective wards when she got in yesterday, making exception only for the ancient housekeeper who kept her in fresh towels.

She thought that physical proximity with her stalker seemed of lesser consequence to her than the emotional proximity he conveyed in his letters. Like she was precious to him. Precious for what purpose? Inevitable destruction and exploitation? It made her feel so drained, so exposed... _which is almost certainly what he wants_ , she thought. _All the more reason to get the hell out of this room and do something normal._

She left and wandered the shops on Diagon Alley, feeling familiar but not comfortable with her surroundings. The last time she walked here, she was with Draco, mulling around the shops and all but begging him to take her dancing in Muggle London for her 16th birthday. She smiled to herself recalling how she had won that fight and spent the evening in a crowded club in Chelsea wrapped in his arms, pressing her face into his neck. She shook the image from her head and concentrated instead on reviewing the new variations on the Incarcerus charm she and an Auror colleague had been working on to improve and standardize the methodology for restraining suspects during an arrest. She, in particular, had been working on an anti-occlemency application to transfigured restraints that would prevent a suspect from shielding their mind from the clumsy, often poorly tuned leglimency of some of the junior arresting Aurors. She wasn't being mean with the criticism. It was just true. Occlumency/Legilimency were her specialties. She had been been educated on them consistently since she was 10. Her father had been a master of both. It was in her blood, and she was unapologetically good at it.

* * *

She met Harry later in his office with a coffee in each hand. He accepted his gratefully at the door and thunked warily down behind his desk after they greeted each other.

"You look...good?" She opened

"For the daughter of a spy, I'd have thought you'd be a better liar."

"I'm an American. Insincere platitudes are akin to breathing for us, I'm afraid. Trouble sleeping?"

"Eh, no more than normal." He dismissed.

"You've been thinking about Severus." It wasn't a question.

Harry looked at her thougfully. "I just can't help but wonder how he's doing this...being that he's…"

"Dead, Harry. He's dead. You were there when it happened, if what I've read is true." Lyra stated, wincing internally at her own harshness.

"Auror Black, I…" Harry started, but Lyra cut him off again.

"No, Harry. Let's not. My point is that he's not doing anything in real time. These scrolls, they've got to be some kind of automatic contingency, like a ward, triggered in the presence of danger. What it says to me, more than anything else is that he trusted you. Trusted you with me, in the event of a crisis, which is something he didn't take lightly when he was alive."

Harry swallowed hard. Lyra smiled.

"Look," she said softly. "When this is done and we get this nutcase locked up, you and me will talk as much or as little about it as you want. I want to know about your relationship. I know he was very important to you, but it's not the time. What needs to be established right now is that he trusted you and I trusted him so...you know..." Feeling too awkward to continue she took to looking uncomfortably around the room.

"I think I do, Auror Black." He answered with a small smile.

"Call me Lyra."

"Ok, Lyra."

They descended into the mother of all awkward pauses, for what seemed like an eon, sipping their coffees, before Lyra spoke -

"So, any word from your staffers about the Malfoys?"

"Not yet. I don't know if that's because they have something to hide or they just want to make us plebeians wriggle before being graced with a response." Lyra rolled her eyes, as Harry continued. "I had one of the blokes make a file for you though. Catch you up, maybe fill in some holes about the family since the war."

Harry grabbed a file from his desk and passed it across to her. Lyra's mouth twitched as she reached for it, flipping to a report sheet. Harry observed her silently as she poured over the document intently. He caught some of her quiet mutterings as she read that revealed to Harry which part of the report she had reached. Things like 'frigging fiendfyre' and 'a years house arrest...makes me feel bad for the house.'

 _So, it was bad. I mean...no, I mean nothing...it was just bad. Damn._ Turns out her...friend had been a nearly unwavering bastard right up to a final defection during the battle of Hogwarts when he and his parents fled prior to the last siege. She read abridged sections of court documents detailing how Draco had let Death Eaters into the school culminating in the Death of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at the time. A man she didn't remember but who had held her in his arms and delivered her to her own parents. Yes, she was aware that her birth father actually killed him in the end, but she also knew that Dumbledore had been dying and they had agreed that Severus should do it to make a show of loyalty to the Death Eaters providing him deeper cover as a spy.

What Lyra hadn't known was that he had also done it to spare Draco from having to do it himself at Voldemort's command. She also learned that Harry himself had testified before the Wizangamot both for and against Draco and his mother, Narcissa. Apparently, Draco had taken a momentary break from being a weapons grade idiot long enough to conceal Harry's identity from the Death Eaters when Harry was captured during the war. His mother, likewise had lied straight to Voldemort's slitted nose holes by saying Harry had died when he was still very much alive.

Draco's terrible father had been sentenced to 4 years in prison, but Draco and Narcissa had received only a year of house arrest (at their ginormous mansion) and probation. Draco had quietly married a witch named Astoria Greengrass and they had a son, Scorpius who was 3. They had divorced after 5 years. Thankfully, the only headlines Draco had made in the years following his notoriety had been for being drunk in public or thrown out of a club. _Oh so that's all_ , she thought to herself.

"All caught up, then?" Harry said, breaking her from her reverie.

"You a legilimens or something?" She inquired.

"No, I'm rubbish actually." He replied.

"Hm."

"But, out of curiosity, what are you thinking?" He asked.

Lyra raised a skeptical eyebrow before sighing heavily and scratching her forehead. "Honestly? I'm thinking that life sure is rough for the rich and idle. Light prison sentences. Huge mansions. Drinking away your failures with 100 year old scotch..."

"That's an odd observation to make about someone you considered a friend." He retorted.

She huffed. "Look, our friendship...Draco's and mine was predicated on truth. We've spent countless hours inside each other's minds. When he disappointed me, made me angry, frightened me, I tended to tell him the truth. I didn't really have a choice. If I didn't, he'd see anyway. I imagine that probably sounds odd, considering the kind of person he is...was."

"You mean like a Slytherin person," Harry offered.

"Hey. My father was a Slytherin person."

"Yes he was," Harry said fondly.

"I cared about Draco a great deal. I was critical of him as well. Those 2 things are not mutually exclusive, you know? I wanted him to be…"

"Better?" Harry questioned

"Not really. Just happy." She shrugged.

A knock sounded at the door and a disheveled looking young wizard entered at Harry's command. "Colin! What have you got for me? Is this about the Malfoy thing?"

The young man eyed Lyra suspiciously before nodding.

"It's fine," Harry said. "She can hear it."

Colin nodded. "Right, well I've heard back from Lucius Malfoy who basically told us that everything is fine and pretty much to sod off in a stuffy oldblood sort of way. But we checked in with the ex-wife as well who said that Malfoy'd missed his last 3 exchanges for their son and she's been unable to reach him for weeks. It checks out, she's got a petition pending for an investigation in the family courts. Told us he's a right bloody mess, but it's abnormal for him to miss time with the boy."

"Right. Anything else, Colin?" Harry inquired.

"That's all we have now, sir." He replied.

"Thanks Colin."

Colin stepped out leaving Lyra and Harry staring at each other pointedly. Lyra broke the silence-

"You cannot give any credence whatsoever to anything Lucius Malfoy says. That he's denied that anything is wrong is as damning as what came from the ex-wife."

"You don't need to tell me not to trust that man. He's horrible." Harry rebuked.

"Good. We agree. We need to treat Draco as missing." Lyra stated flatly...maybe a little too flatly.

"What?! That is not what I said!" Harry exclaimed.

"Are you kidding me right now?!" She broke, shooting Harry an incredulous look.

"I think we need more information. Malfoy is not exactly a picture of stability these days. How do we know that he's not on holiday somewhere drowning in drink?"

"BECAUSE HES NOT, HARRY!" She erupted. "I know him. Like from inside of his own frigging brain know him. He would never run out on his kid. Ever. If he's missing from that, he is missing, period. We need to talk to his Ex. And his mother. I want to talk to his mother." She began to ramble.

"Alright, alright. We'll get on it, but have you considered that you're playing into this guys hands? Or..." Harry hesitated and Lyra felt the thought broadcasting out of his mind.

"It's not him, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Stay out of my head."

"Stop thinking so loudly then." She said coldly.

He shot her an icy glance before moving on. "Ok, from what you've told me, the only people who knew Snape is your father were Snape, Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, Malfoy and yourself. Three of those people are dead and unless you're stalking yourself it seems logical that Malfoy could be doing this to you."

Lyra pinned him with an eyeroll that could've come Snape himself.

"Ok, I'll bite but if Draco was behind this, why would he be in danger too?"

"I don't know. My money's on he's off his bloody rocker and is a danger to himself." Lyra scoffed. "Or maybe he's being coerced to do it," Harry added as a conciliatory measure more than anything.

"It's an idea." She conceded. "I need a face to face with these people. The mom, the ex, the old man too. I can read them..."

"Not a chance! It's too dangerous, plus what if they're involved? You could be walking dead into a trap!" Harry fired.

Lyra seethed. She wanted to launch into the girl-power 'I can take care of myself' speech. That self-righteous tirade that was essentially the smart-girl version of 'hold my beer and watch this.' She knew Harry was right. Unlike her new friend across the table (if his reputation was to be believed) she did have some self-preservation instincts.

"Ok. You're right there." She conceded.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief

"Well you are, don't get all smug..." she trailed off.

"I am not smug! I was just…er..."

"Expecting a fight?" She offered.

"Something like that."

"Ah."

"So, we need an alternative." Harry replied. "Because your father would rise from the dead and kill me himself if I let you do something like that."

"I believe he would", she laughed, glad the tension between them had passed. "So, if I was a disgraced aristocrat living in a huge manor, likely protected by centuries of security spells and buttload of dark magic, what would be the best way to eavesdrop on me?"

"I honestly have no idea," he said.

"Neither do I, she replied," defeated.

* * *

 **MCUSA** \- Magical Congress of the USA  
 **Ilvermorny** \- The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
 **Pukwudgie** \- An American creature that resembles a goblin. Many of them work at Ilvermorny in support roles. Pukwudgie is also one of the 4 houses at Ilvermorny.  
 **Wampus** \- A magical panther like creature native to North America.  
 **No-Maj** \- Non-magical person, muggle.


	3. Chapter 3

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Knockturn and Diagon Alleys**  
 **Saturday**

It was the weekend and Lyra was mulling around an overpriced, gilded market in Knockturn Alley. Harry had invited her over for Sunday dinner to meet his family and she was shopping for a suitable offering for the table. She browsed around their alcove of brandies, looking for something universally palatable when she overheard a conversation from an adjoining section of the store.

"Narcissa, you're overreacting. Can't we talk about this when we get home?" Said in a stiff, dry voice.

"Don't be absurd. I can't remember the last time he went this long without answering one of my owls. It's been 3 weeks. Even worse, Astoria's contacted the Ministry about him missing time with Scorpius." Replied a soft, feminine voice.

"Well, she always did seem to share your penchant for hysteria. How do you know any of this anyway? She's not spoken to you, has she?"

"No," replied the woman sadly. "I heard it from Iris Aldridge at tea yesterday. Her husband heads some or other department of solicitors at the ministry that oversees custody arrangements."

"Well I imagine she can't spare the time, what with being newly remarried and orchestrating ever elaborate schemes to keep her son away from his rightful grandparents." He replied coldly before continuing, "Draco...he's probably in Lisbon, or wherever it is he goes to squander his inheritance when he feels like dodging his responsibilities."

"Lucius please. Why can't we approach anyone at the ministry. I know you dismissed that inquiry from the other day. If he's hurt or worse, you'd be devastated."

"No, sweetheart, you'd be devastated and that would make me very ill indeed. I would undoubtedly be spared trouble and save a great deal of money." The man sighed long. "I know you're concerned. I will make efforts to ease your mind. You have my word."

"That makes me feel better. Thank you." She said warmly.

 _Jackpot_. Lyra thought to herself _. Let me get that bastard in my line of sight real quick and we are in business. If it gives me nothing, Harry never even has to know._ She took several deep breaths to prepare herself. Wandless legilimency was hard. Like 'splitting headache for the rest of the day after doing it for 10 seconds' hard. It required a lot of discipline and the user had to manage simultaneous filtering of chaotic mental patterns with preventing detection on the part of the subject. All without the assistance of a magical conduit. Most people couldn't do it, even those who were comparatively good at it with a wand in hand. She grabbed an extra bottle of expensive brandy off the shelf in front of her (for her impending headache), spun on her heel and went to cross paths with the devil himself.

The gods must have smiled upon her because she excited her little alcove in the market as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were entering it. Lyra steeled herself and reached out to penetrate his mind…

 _...see if I can forge a response from him to calm her down. Need arctic moss for the blinding cast for Thursday. This is absurd. Not Astoria. He's hunting someone, it's certain. Need to find her. Taking too long. He should have struck by now. Maybe torture and destroy was a bit much. Simple kill would have done it. This is becoming inconvenient. Am I out of brandy in my study? Ah, the Bourbonnais..._

She came back to herself and had to expend a considerable amount of energy to keep her jaw from hanging open. Not only was Lucius involved in the disappearance of his son, but this sounded like some dark stuff. She was sure of it. _Arctic moss? What the hell?_ She flashed a placid, generic smile as she passed them, nearly brushing shoulders with Narcissa Malfoy. Lyra had never met her, but remembered she'd featured prominently in Draco's thoughts when they were younger and that he loved her fiercely. She ducked her head and hastened to the front of the store.

She made quick time buying her things and hurried back to the Leaky Cauldron. Her head was pounding from her efforts and swimming with the information she'd learned. She ordered a bowl of hearty stew from the bar downstairs and sequestered herself in her room for the evening to think, nurse her headache with stiff brandy and hopefully sleep for an inappropriate amount of time. Settling in with stew and drink, she mulled over what she'd heard...

 _It reads like he's compelling someone to hurt Draco or compelling Draco to hurt someone else. Maybe both. Harry may have been right about Draco being a danger to himself. How is this happening? Imperius curse? Not likely. If the Ministry is anything like MCUSA, wizards that serve prison sentences for using the Unforgiveables have an irreversible trace cast on them that alerts the Aurors if they employ one after their release. I feel like if this was Imperius, we would know. So...addressing the elephant in the room, there is a definite, greater than zero percent chance that Draco is somehow being compelled to hunt and destroy someone while I am simultaneously being stalked by someone who knows a little too much about me for comfort. Shit. Shit shit shit..._

Abandoning her stew, she rubbed her hand across her aching forehead. _I need more information. I can't just throw myself in front of Lucius Malfoy every day for 30 seconds hoping to find what I need before my brain explodes. I need to hear him with his guard down._ She mulled over the last thing she and Harry had discussed on Friday afternoon. ' _How do you eavesdrop on a stuffy old aristocrat in a giant manor protected by centuries of protective spells and dark magic?' Severus would know,_ she thought. What _would he do?_ She missed her birth father in that moment and wanted so badly to talk to him. Severus Snape was not known for his fuzzy paternalism, but he was a hell of a spy and she needed a spy right about now.

 _Wait a minute_...Lyra pulled out her cell phone and keyed in the country code to call Patrick. He picked up and began without preamble…

"Lyra. It's both Saturday and you are out of the country. Go shear a sheep or...play Quadditch or whatever."

"It's Quidditch, Pat, and it's a huge deal in Europe."

"Fascinating. What do you want?" He inquired.

"Hey, so you know Carlos and Erik, the no-maj investigator dudes?"

"Well, they work for me, so yes." He replied.

"Right, well they're operatives yeah? Like no-maj spies?"

"I mean...kind of?"

"I need their help. And yours."

"Talk." He said, intrigued.

"Remember when they checked my house for bugs?" She began.

"For what?"

"The little no-maj spying machines. I need something not detectable by magic that I can hide in a room and use as an extra set of ears."

"Oh yeah, those."

"I need in between 5 and 50...I actually have no idea what an appropriate number is for bugs." Lyra admitted.

"Obviously."

"Hey! Neither do you!"

"Ok, well, let's do this. We're doing a club raid tonight and they'll be there. I'll see if they can pull some together with dummy-proof instructions for you and we can have them couriered your way. Sound good?"

"Jabs at my intelligence aside, you're the best Patrick in the history of Patricks." She beamed warmly.

He snorted. "Are you being safe out there? I can't help but worry that you are running towards, rather than away from a crappy situation."

"I'm fine. I've got the great Harry Potter on my 6 and he's notoriously hard to kill. I'm hoping a little of that rubs off on me."

"Yeah, me too, kid."

"Thanks, Pat. I appreciate your help."

"No problem. You take care."

"I will. You too."

Lyra set the phone down and huffed in exhaustion. She considered the progress she'd made today and deemed it not bad for an idle Saturday. She had new information, the beginning of a surveillance plan and a hell of a headache to boot. Glancing at her phone, she saw it was only 8pm. _Oh come on_ , she thought. _I could be doing a lot worse things than going to bed_. She got up, performed her bedtime rituals (with bonus headache potion) and fell easily into sleep.

She dreamed her memories that night. Vivid and unedited. Even during her sleep she noted that she scarcely remembered a time she'd had such lucid dreams. They were all of him, because of course they were. When they met. His initial snobbishness. His shiny hair and Slytherin green robes leading her to nickname him Frog. His return taunt, calling her Puk after the Pukwudgie that was the name of her house at Ilvermorny. The first time she learned a secret from his mind. _He was afraid of a cruel father who mistreated him and bullied his mother_.

She recalled the eventful session when they were 14 where he learned from her own mind that she was Severus's daughter. How she ran sobbing from the room, afraid he would use that information to shame her or Severus. How he ran after her and swore on his own life that he would never. How he pinned her to the wall then and kissed her soundly for the first time when she'd asked why he would keep her secret. Her 16th birthday in the club in Chelsea. How they'd retired to an upscale hotel room after dancing and she let him take from her mind images of what she wanted from him. _How she wanted him to touch her. How she wanted him to take her_...

She was enjoying a palpable memory of his pale hands running up her sun-kissed thighs as he hovered above her when she woke abruptly with a gasp. She shifted and registered a not unpleasant feeling of warmth coiling in her lower belly and groaned in frustrated disappointment. It was shaping up to be a good dream...well, memory actually.

She stared up at the ceiling, allowing her breathing to regulate. Glancing out the window she saw the light of very early morning streaming gently through the thin curtains, indicating 5 or maybe 6 o'clock. _Ugh, too soon_ , she protested. She flipped over in defiance, burying her face in her pillow and flinging her hands and legs out to the side in possessive ownership of the bed. Her right hand, as it sprawled, landed on a piece of paper on the unused pillow next to her. She lifted her head in confusion, gripping the paper in her hand. It was a single sheet of white paper, not parchment, folded in half. She sat up, shoving her back against the headboard of her bed for support and unfolded the paper.

She stared down at it for an unknown number of minutes. The world around her melted away until nothing was left in existence but her body, the letter and a haze of fear and anger competing for dominance inside her head.

It was her. A sketch of her face and shoulders, peaceful in sleep. The thin straps of the nightgown she was presently wearing rendered artfully in graphene. There was an inscription in the lower corner of the drawing that read:

My beloved Lyra,  
I hope you had pleasant dreams.  
You're so beautiful in your sleep.  
I will see you again very soon.  
No more secrets,  
DM

"Shit." She said aloud to the empty room, slumping back into the headboard of her bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**October 2008**  
 **Grimmauld Place, Wizarding London, England**  
 **Sunday**

Lyra waited anxiously, bottle of brandy in one hand, suitcase in the other, outside the spelled door of 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting for Harry to greet her. She had all but apparated out of her room at the Leaky Cauldron after her rude awakening but managed to resist the urge to tear over to him first thing that morning and demand he take Lucius Malfoy, Draco and the whole damn family into custody at once.

She didn't know the ins and outs of British wizarding law but she imagined they'd have some kind of stuffier, more tea and crumpet-y version of American due process that would have to be adhered to. The thought had her huffing in annoyance. Not that she took issue with procedural inquiry as a matter of course, she just felt rather itchy knowing what she knew about Lucius and also the little issue of her being stalked by his son, who apparently spent last night in her room, sketching her as she slept. She felt, with the confirmation of her previous fears, that time was running out. The sentiment made her thoughts run chaotic to the point of incoherence.

Before she could go any deeper down the rabbit hole, the door in front of her swung open revealing the Chosen One himself, in all of his dad-sweatered glory. Hmmm...argyle. What year is it, Potter? She thought to herself as they greeted each other. After accepting her gift, Harry ushered her into a narrow hallway, covered in textured navy wallpaper with lush gray carpet. Rather than lead her down the passage, Harry remained on the landing.

"We have an animated ward," Harry explained, pausing. When Lyra raised her eyebrows in confusion he added, "Just give it a second. Stupid thing. We've had loads of spellbreakers, even some aurors try to remove it, but it's too old. Seems nobody can manage it. "

As he finished speaking, Lyra saw what looked like a tornado of sand form suddenly at the end of the corridor. It started moving rapidly towards them. The shape of a face materialized within the torrent of sand hurtling in their direction. The sand creature opened its mouth to bellow when it suddenly paused, appeared to regard Lyra before speaking in a deep, echoing baritone,

"Ms. Black you are most welcome to the noble and ancient and home of your ancestors," the ward moved closer to Lyra and Harry and made a sniffing motion in her direction before stating "I see...though your blood is powerful, sadly it is not ours. In our great kindness we will offer you protection within these walls but no access to the family grimoires or archives, nor access to the restorative magic of the house itself." The expressionless ward lingered before them a moment longer before disintegrating into nothing.

"What the hell was that?!" Harry inquired, voice raised.

"What do you mean? Isn't that kind of what it does?" She asked

"No! It usually just yells, blows my hat off my head and disappears. "That's unbelievable!"

"So it doesn't...sniff you?"

"Never."

"Huh."

"Oh wait. I get it. It's you! Oh, that's actually quite brilliant!" Harry said ushering them down the narrow passage to the comparatively spacious kitchen at the end, warmly done up in orange bricks and copper.

"What's me?" She asked.

"You're a Black! This house used to belong to the Black family."

"Really?" She said looking around. "That's odd. This house actually kind of reminds me of my parent's house in Brooklyn."

"When did your dad's family leave England?"

"Some time in the late 1800's. My dad's only third generation American. My great-great grandfather Phineas left England after falling out with his family over no-ma...er...Muggle Rights. My uncle Orion is the family historian. He still has some letters to Phineas from his brother, Sirius. Sirius was heartbroken that his brother had left, but was unable to say so publicly for fear of punishment from the family. He missed him something fierce. It's sad, really." Lyra explained.

Harry regarded her knowingly before replying.

"My godfather Sirius left me this house. He was a good man." He said sadly. "He also fell out with the family over their ideas on blood purity...and their just being hoity, insufferable prats in general. If he hadn't willed me this house it would've gone to the only remaining Black heir on this side of the family." Harry hesitated and Lyra inferred his meaning with a roll of her eyes.

"Let me guess. Draco. Half Black, half Malfoy, all frog. As if he needed another house. I'm glad it's yours, Potter." She said with a smile. "To be honest, I'd love to rummage around for more family history, but you heard the Sandman. As a faux Black, I'm out." She shrugged.

Harry glanced down at her suitcase and raised an eyebrow. "You moving in there, Black?"

"Right. About that," Lyra started.

At that moment, a young child bounded into the room carrying on about chocolate frogs followed by a heavily pregnant, red-headed woman who was yelling at him whilst carrying a babbling toddler. The collective noise was incredible.

"Muuuuuuum you said! YOU SAID!" The oldest child lamented.

"Stop running! I said after dinner. Now if you can't behave yourself, you'll get crust o' bread, two tight slaps and straight to bed." The woman said

Harry cleared his throat. Lyra grinned broadly.

"Ginny, Ms. Black is here." Harry said.

The red-headed woman looked over Lyra briefly, and whatever assessment she made seemed to be satisfactory enough to warrant the sharing in child-care duties.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Black. Now, I've got to use the loo, Harry fetch James, Ms. Black, would you mind holding Albus here?" She asked, already pushing the child into Lyra's chest, causing her to drop her suitcase with a dull thud.

"Hey, why not. Please call me Lyra. Nice to meet you too." She replied.

The elder boy, James apparently, started running circles around the large kitchen protesting further about chocolate frogs. The toddler in her arms looked up at her. Dark brown hair, almost black. Big green eyes. All Potter. _Cute_ , she thought.

"Ba-ba-ba!" He announced to her, unceremoniously.

"Oh, you don't say!" She said, bouncing him gently. Pacing with him around the room with him while Harry rounded up the older child.

They settled in for dinner, passing dishes and sharing brandy. They talked like old friends. Bickering about the weather between New York and London, discussing annoying coworkers and the best way to spell a perfect poached egg. Lyra got thoroughly trounced by her married companions when she dismissed Quidditch as both boring to watch and a good way to break an arm.

Despite their disagreements about Quidditch, she found that she liked Ginny Potter. She reminded her of her mom. Kind and honest, with a good laugh and a penchant for force feeding her guests. She was beautiful and had that infinite ability to multi-task that seemed natural to all good mothers.

For his excellent behavior at dinner, James's long suffering was ended by the presentation of the highly anticipated chocolate frog. Tragedy struck again soon after when the Famous Wizards trading card he got with said frog was none other than Harry Potter, of which he already had dozens. Lyra discovered this firsthand when he showed her every card in his possession followed by every toy he owned, seeking her approval. They were excellent toys. The best she'd seen, she assured him.

Ginny and Harry left Lyra in a warm, fire lit sitting room while they put the children to bed. Lyra sat, sipping steaming tea and mulling over the day. For the terrible way it started, it had ended up much better than she'd hoped. Almost made her forget she was being stalked by a possibly insane, possibly compelled ex-lover. Almost...but not really.

Harry joined her after several minutes, dropping down exhausted on to the chair across from her.

"Long day?" She inquired.

"Honestly, I don't know what makes me more tired. A boring day at work, a night raid or a regular Sunday with my kids." He huffed.

"They're sweet."

"You want any?"

"Are you trying to sell me one of your children?"

"Now that's an idea."

"Fine. Albus. He's cute and he doesn't say much."

"For now." He replied.

"For now." She smiled.

"So...do you always walk around with a suitcase, Mary Poppins?" He asked.

"Mary Poppins?"

"Nevermind. Old muggle story."

"Ah. I have to show you something." She began, reaching out and offering him the drawing she'd received that morning.

Harry looked it over, anger visible on his face. "How...how did he get into your room? Tell me that you warded it and spelled it properly." He exclaimed with an implied admonition.

"Of course I did! Don't be ridiculous. I think he used the maid somehow, but I'm not sure."

"So it is him."

"It's him." She replied sadly.

"So he's lost his mind then."

"I...I don't think so. Harry, I think he's being compelled."

"What?!"

She told him what she'd learned from Lucius's mind in the market the day prior. His willingness to lie to his wife. The need for moss for something called a 'blind.' His impatience at how long his plan was taking. His presumption about Astoria, that she should have been involved but is not. She also divulged that the Malfoy's perceived that their former daughter in law was trying to keep them from their grandson.

"You think he's being compelled to what...kill you? He was in a room with you, seemingly for hours last night. If he wanted to kill you…"

"Possibly, but I think he's being compelled to hunt me first. Torture and destroy were the words I picked out of his father's mind."

"Blimey. But why you?"

"I don't know."

"It can't be random. You two were really just friends?"

"No...not just" She said, looking away from him.

"Ah." He replied clearing his throat. "Well, it can't be Imperious. The ministry, we'd know."

"I figured as much." She said, grateful for his not dwelling on her admission."

"A curse? Potion? Poison?" He questioned.

"No idea. But I think I found a solution to our problem from Friday. How do you spy on a pureblood aristocrat…"

"Go on." He said.

"You use the thing they'd least expect. Something they can't fathom. Something nomaj."

"Like Mary Poppins." Harry said

"Uh...why not. Like Mary frigging Poppins." She laughed.

"Can't wait." He replied.

"Can I stay here?" She said hesitantly. "I was going to find another room somewhere, but I...I feel safe here. With you and Ginny...and the Black family Sandman." She suddenly felt stupid. Like a child. Insipid.

"Like we would let you out that door, are you barking mad!?" Ginny exclaimed from the doorway. She advanced on her, grabbing her suitcase from the floor, next to where she sat, complaining at her husband the entire time.

"Unbelievable, you. This poor thing, scared half to death and you're chatting her up about Mary bloody Moppins." She started dragging Lyra's suitcase towards one of the spare rooms, still admonishing Harry. "Trying to sell the children too, Potter? I've half a mind to sell you. I could get a second house, an army of nannies, oh that would be nice…" She was out of the room by them, muttering to herself down the hallway.

Lyra turned, wide-eyed, back to her friend. "She is fantastic!" she exclaimed.

"I know." He replied warmly, his chin in hand.

Lyra typically abhorred people knowing more about her than she deemed essential, but found herself relieved to have someone else know. Know that she was vulnerable. That she was afraid. It made it seem less terrible to her somehow.


	5. Chapter 5

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Monday**

Lyra went into work with Harry on Monday. She spent the majority of her morning on the phone with Patrick and her superiors in New York arranging a transfer for official business so she could continue on in London without using all of her personal leave. Harry had spent his morning justifying her transfer to his own superiors. They were then hauled in together in front of the Head Auror of the Department to discuss why she should be allowed to work a case involving British subjects on British soil. _Ah, the old British stuffiness, I did not miss you_. Lyra thought.

She and Harry had discussed that morning, over coffee and buns, that she would take the lead and divulge as much information as she saw fit to earn her transfer and get a team and resources to work the case.

The Head Auror, Harry's ultimate supervisor within the department, was a wizard named Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry told her that he had been retired from field work for several years but that he had been an important member of the resistance during the Second War and worked closely with her father to subvert Voldemort and his cause. He was a favorite pick for Minister of Magic in the upcoming election and held a lot of power within the government. He looked, to Lyra, like he had definitely been battle tested. Despite presently being kind of a thorn in her side, he struck her as a good leader. Fair, but skeptical. At present, she found herself standing next to Harry in front of the Head Auror's desk while he eyed her suspiciously through a set of bifocals.

"Auror Black, I've dealt personally with the Malfoy family in the past. It does not seem out of the realm of possibility to me that the young Mr. Malfoy is experiencing some kind of psychosis, fixating his emotions on a childhood acquaintance as a form of escape. If our file on him is correct, he is somewhat recently divorced, his ex-wife newly remarried and has had several negative encounters with both the wizarding and muggle justice systems stemming from his issues with substance abuse." Shaklebolt fired in her direction.

"Sir I understand that. I understand that a typical case of stalking is about human psychology and not dark magic, but I truly do not believe that is the case here. I believe this is...atypical." She replied evenly.

"Atypical how?" He asked.

"The timing. The target. The methods." She argued. She was trying to find a way to get this done without having to tell them that she was a Snape or that she had maybe broken international law by using wandless legilimency on an unsuspecting citizen, even if that citizen was a total bastard.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Auror, I can't justify a transfer and use of this office on what is, in all probability, a rather unfortunate case of a profoundly troubled wizard needing mental health services and to spend a turn in a cell contemplating how to properly treat women." He replied.

She glanced over at Harry and he gave her a small nod. _Frick. Fine. Let's tell everybody. Put it in the Times too for a laugh_. It was at moments like this that she was unspeakably grateful for her department at MCUSA. Pat had approved her transfer in like two seconds. _Brits and their red tape…_

"Auror Shacklebolt, there's more." She offered.

"I figured."

"Draco's father." She began.

"Terrible man. Unbelievable coward." He replied without hesitation.

"Yes, I know. I ran into him several days ago and I...he doesn't know me. I've only met him once but I'm a highly skilled Legilimens and I can practice successfully without a conduit and I…"

"You read his mind without his knowledge and you learned something that makes you think he's culpable for the strange behavior of his son?" He interjected, as a mock question.

Lyra stood, stunned. She looked over to Harry who had his jaw on the floor before she turned back to the man in front of her.

"Um...yes. I...is that illegal here?" She asked, trying sound innocent.

"It most certainly is." He replied, emotionless.

"Yeah. I was worried about that." She could feel Harry rolling his eyes next to her.

"My next questions are very important, Auror. So consider them carefully because your responses may mean the difference between you earning a spot here or you being put in ropes and sent back to the States." He paused. "What reasons, before your weekend excursion into unauthorized mind reading, did you have to believe that Lucius Malfoy was concealing the activities of his son and what indications do you have that Draco is in real danger here from dark magic? Give me reasons to believe you." Shacklebolt said, eyes narrowed.

"The abridged version?" She asked.

"Preferably."

"Ok. I've known Draco since I was eleven. My birth father was British and tutored us in Legilimency/Occlumency together periodically for seven years. I've spent hours inside Draco's head and he in mine. I haven't seen him in ten years but I know him inside and out, or I mean...I knew him. I knew that he was afraid of his father as a child. Lucius would bully him, hit him and threaten his mother. One of the things that I learned about that man from the mind of his own son is that there is nothing NOTHING he wouldn't do for power. Now, if the reading up that I've done on the Second War is any indication, my Legilimency proved me right."

"But that was ages ago. Mr. Malfoy has been tried and served time in prison. He was secured with a trace to ensure no further use of Unforgivable Curses and has legally paid his debt to society. He's been mostly an afterthought or a punchline for years now." Shaklebolt retorted.

"We also made a...I don't know what you call it here, but back home we call it a Wellness Check. When I arrived in England we reached out to the Malfoys to see if anything was amiss with Draco. I was concerned for his safety." She stated.

"Citizens Inquiry." Harry offered.

"And?" questioned Shacklebolt.

"And we got two different stories. From Lucius Malfoy, we got that nothing was wrong. Everything was pansies, pleasant and pureblood. From the ex-wife, however, we got that Draco had been out of touch for several weeks and was missing visitation time with his son, which he had never willingly done before. She was worried. Also, when I saw the Malfoys this weekend, I overheard Narcissa Malfoy saying that she hadn't heard from him in a similar amount of time and she was concerned as well. She was also aware that Malfoy had blown off the inquiry and she didn't like it," Lyra explained. "To clarify...um...that information I heard with my ears, not my mind. And you can't arrest me for frequenting overpriced markets and having ears, so…" She dropped off nervously after her embarrassing ramble.

"Ok, there is an element of suspicion there, I'll give you that." He replied, looking amused.

"So, that's when I read him. Heard him flat out, in his own mind that he was going to fabricate a letter from Draco to placate his wife. Heard him thinking in terms of hunting. Heard him mention that whoever was being hunted, it's not Astoria Nott and I think he was surprised that that was the case. I also heard him, again with my ears this time, tell his wife that he thinks she's keeping their grandson away from them out of spite. Which sounds like motive to me," Lyra explained.

"Out with it then, Auror," Shacklebolt fired flatly.

"I think Lucius Malfoy has found an outside way to compel Draco to hunt someone down and destroy them. I think whatever he did isn't affecting Draco the way he planned. I think he was hoping that he would pursue the ex-wife, with the motive being to punish her for keeping him away from his grandson," She replied. "Why do your own dirty work when you can brainwash your own son to do it for you. It's terrible. It's cowardly. It's been his MO in the past. Problem is, Draco isn't hunting her. He's hunting me."

Shacklebolt's face didn't change, but he leaned forward in his chair before questioning, "Why you?"

"Simple mix up? Bad cast?"She offered, half-heartedly.

Harry cleared his throat suggestively and it was Lyra's turn to roll her eyes.

She sighed heavily and tried to suppress her blush. "Draco and I were together, for a time...before the war." She replied, looking with unwavering devotion at the clock on the wall behind the head Auror's desk.

"Ah. That clears that up," the old Auror answered before continuing. "So, forgive me, but I have to ask, what on earth makes you think that it's remotely appropriate to have you working a stalking case in which you're actively a victim? Seems...odd."

"Because I'm trying to tell you that this isn't a stalking case! It's an unlawful compulsion case. That is dark magic. I am an Auror and the last time I checked, fighting dark magic is sort of the job. I am uniquely qualified for this case because of my singular insight into the mind of the person who is actually being victimized here!" She said, exasperation bleeding into her tone.

He paused, sizing her up. She hoped she hadn't lost her cool so much that she lost the point.

"So Draco is our victim. Do you think his father is going to compel him to hurt himself if he is unsuccessful in his task?"

"I have no idea. I don't know how it's being done. I'm mostly worried that Draco is going to escalate what he's doing and I'm going to have to seriously hurt him or worse to protect myself. That worry applies regardless if this is dark magic or garden-variety psychosis. I don't want to do that to him," she replied with conviction.

"Point made." Shacklebolt replied. "I spoke this morning with Patrick McMillan in your office in New York. He told us that you'd taken measures to ensure you weren't being surveilled there and you weren't. That being the case, if you had some kind of sick admirer across the Atlantic, why bring yourself nearer to danger by closing the gap yourself?"

"That...is a very good question, actually." She replied.

"It's sort of the job, as you say." He retorted.

"Right. Well, I don't think it's good practice to just let stalking go unaddressed." She stalled. "Brave new world for a young, professional witch and all that."

"Try again." He said.

 _Ok, you got me. That was pretty bad, s_ he thought before giving a long, defeated sigh. "I was instructed to come by a source that I trust." She admitted, feeling embarrassed.

"A source," Shacklebolt replied with a raised eyebrow.

Lyra huffed. "So you've read the letters. You know they make mention of some huge secret that I have, yes?"

"Yes." He replied expectantly.

"Well I only have one secret and that is my birth father, who tutored me and Draco all those years is Severus Snape. He warned me that Draco and I were both in trouble and told me to come to England to find Harry." She blurted out quickly. She produced the scroll she'd received from Severus the week prior and Harry laid his next to hers on the desk in front of the wizard seated before them.

"That's….that's not possible." Shacklebolt stated pensively as he looked at the scrolls in front of him.

"I believe her, Sir. It's his hand. It's his tone. It's even his bloody style. Cryptic and weird, but matter-of-fact," Harry offered in her defense.

Shacklebolt huffed a noiseless laugh. He spent several more moments reviewing the scrolls in silent contemplation when there was a knock at the door and a young secretarial witch entered.

"Excuse me, Sir. This just came for you by express owl." She said extending a small scroll out to him which he took in his hand hesitantly.

"Thank you, Hilde." He replied as the witch retreated from the room. He looked down warily at the scroll in his hand and opened it…

Kingsley,  
To answer your questions in order,  
Yes she is.  
Yes I am still, regrettably, quite dead.  
Yes. It is included in this scroll. When she is safe again feel free to share it with her. It contains information that she does not know and has a right to.  
Regards,  
Severus Snape

The old Auror picked up the smaller piece of parchment that had been rolled up with Snape's message. He opened it reluctantly. He scanned it, took a moment to compose his face and tone before looking up at the young wizard and witch in front of him. He eyed the young witch with her dark hair, hazel eyes and natural frown. She was a good mix of her parents, aesthetically. _That lucky son of a bitch_ , he thought.

"Auror Black, on behalf of the Auror Department of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, welcome aboard." He stood and extended her hand to her.

Lyra blinked twice, hard, before extending her hand to shake his. "Th...Thank you, sir." She looked over at Harry who looked just as confused as she was.

"To avoid a mountain of diplomatic paperwork and unnecessary attention, the case belongs to you, Potter. Black, you will have full access to the team and tools assigned and will co-direct the operation as a consultant specialist for your Legilimency skills...Potter, make sure you run her by Simpkins before this is all over. Maybe she can teach him something." Shacklebolt said with an air of finality.

"Yes sir." He replied.

"Then you're dismissed. Good luck and let me know if you need anything." He stated.

They turned to leave.

"Auror Black." Shacklebolt called to her just prior to her reaching the door.

"Sir?"

"Your father was a complicated man, but deeply brave. A great wizard. He was a loss to all of us and I'm sure no one more so than you." He said plainly.

Lyra smiled. "Well, I'm not so sure, to be honest." She replied glancing at Harry who was just out of earshot walking back towards his office. She turned back to see Shacklebolt's puzzled look. "I mean, he had a lot of important relationships, but kept everything so hidden and compartmentalized. I may be his daughter and a helluva Legilimens, but that doesn't mean I knew him the best, or vice versa." She thought a moment before adding, "he was, as you say, a complicated man."

"There he is." Shacklebolt smiled at her. "Insightful and dispassionately realistic."

"Well, I'm just happy I didn't get the nose." She replied with a smile before turning out the door as Shacklebolt braced himself on his desk for a laugh.

* * *

Thank you for reading and thank you to stacygrrl2002 for the reviews! A question has been raised about the involvement of the Dumbledores. I'm not sure if I will include more backstory about it in the fic due to pacing, but I'll say that, in my mind, Snape trusted Albus Dumbledore more than anybody, save for maybe Lily Potter and went to him to hide and protect his daughter. In my mental timeline, Lyra was born very close to the time the Potters were killed and he went to Albus in the aftermaths of their deaths asking him to hide his daughter. I mean, Albus was hiding one kid, why not 2! I included Aberforth really just to give plausibility to the idea that Lyra could have been kept for 8 months around Hogwarts before being placed with the Blacks. Aberforth, based on Deathly Hallows, was the kind of guy who would put aside the animosity between him and his brother to help a child, and I think Albus trusted him enought to share the information with him. So, that's what I got. Also, I'm going to be doing some housekeeping on this story. Changing headings and a tiny few hole patches. They will not significantly change the story in any way. Thanks! -MM


	6. Chapter 6

Please note that the rating on this story has been changed to M. At this point, it's for no other reason than Lyra needs to use bad words for her sanity. She's just that kind of girl. This story will, however, have mature romantic situations in future chapters. Thanks! -MM

* * *

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Monday, Continued**

Lyra and Harry chatted excitedly about the official stamp on their collaboration over lunch. Harry had several people in mind for the team and Lyra was looking forward to getting an insiders view of how they did business in Britain. What was the same, what was different? The British Ministry of Magic was notoriously locked down when it came to goodwill exchanges between state personnel.

Lyra was thrilled to see a Hippogriff courier box waiting for her when they returned to the office. It was from Patrick and she opened it excitedly. It was much more than she'd asked for. It was a veritable treasure trove of No-maj espionage equipment, courtesy of Carlos and Erik. The bugs were there, with instructions on how to use them. They were truly amazing little machines, about the size of a standard coat button. They had a leg up on magic in a sense in that they could save you the trouble of having to transfigure yourself in to a gnat to spy on someone and they were far less conspicuous than Extendable ears.

There were also tiny stickers that could apparently be affixed to a target and used as a kind of location charm with a screen that could show you where the sticker was at any time. They'd also sent Lyra a set of thin metal tools that were for unlocking doors. Lyra would never need them in her life but she thought it was adorable and committed herself to making the guys teach her how to pick a lock in the No-maj fashion when she got home. The last thing they included was a set of 6 small earpieces that were described as Walkie-Talkies, which made sense to Harry, but not to Lyra and led to a fifteen minute Harry Potter brand tangent that started with invisible ink and ended with an ode to some Muggle character called James Bond.

Patrick had thrown in her form-fitting, anti-curse vest and her spelled wristwraps that made her resistant to being disarmed. She felt like she was greeting old friends as she held them in her hands, though she'd last seen them only about a week ago. _My babies_ , she cooed internally.

Harry assembled his team quickly with approval from Auror Shaklebolt. Harry was able to essentially handpick Aurors as everyone seemed equally interested in working with an American as Lyra was in working with them. The team of 6, including Harry and Lyra, convened in a conference room and Harry took the lead.

"Right, everybody, I'm sure you've already heard, but this is Auror Black. She's from MCUSA in New York and is consulting on this case. She'll be doing the initial briefing, I'll be doing assignments and head coordination. Gold, I want you minding the kit. Auror Black has some things on board from a Muggle government agency that will need special handling."

A graying wizard, maybe early 50's, spoke up in a Scottish accent, "Alright then." He replied gruffly before looking over to Lyra. "Piperin Gold." He grunted at her without emotion.

"Lyra Black. It's nice to meet you, Auror Gold." She replied with standard American paltriness.

The young blonde witch next to Gold spoke up next, "I'm Azalea Rossman. I specialize in potions and countercurses," she said in a bubbly tone.

"Happy to meet you, Auror. Lyra Black. Legilimency and Occlumency."

A handsome, dark skinned wizard who was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly spoke next. "You really fight monsters in those pretty pumps, sweetheart?" He shot at her with an air of cocky confidence.

"Oh Harry, you have casual sexual harassment in your office too! How unoriginal." Lyra quipped, not addressing the wizard himself.

The man on the wall laughed. "Fair enough, love. Blaise Zabini, offensive spells and hexes."

She recognized him then. She'd never met him, but she'd seen his picture in the Daily Prophet recently and he'd featured in Draco's memories enough when they were children. They were friends. Not as close as he'd been to his idiot henchmen, but still close...for Slytherins. Draco had respected him once. He was intelligent, cunning and apparently, a total douche. _Charming._

She narrowed her eyes at him and went for it, reaching out to his mind wandlessly. _Smug bastard_...

 _Merlin, she's even hotter when she's mad. I wonder what color her knickers are. I'm hungry. Is it fish n' chips downstairs today?_

She pulled back without expression, bracing herself against the bite of pain at her temples. She leveled a cool stare at him and spoke, "Auror Black. Color? None of your damn business, and they have chips downstairs, but no fish." She said with a mock frown.

He widened his eyes and coughed nervously before mumbling "Pleasure," dejectedly, as she pinned him with a saccharine smile.

She turned to the last member of their team. A baby-faced, black haired wizard who looked to be about 12. He seemed to shrink under her gaze, and appeared painfully shy. She thought it best to go first. "Hi!" She said cheerily. "Lyra Black."

The awkward wizard regarded her for a few moments. "Valeron Simpkins, Legilimency."

"Oh! Auror Simpkins!" She exclaimed, making the poor kid jump. "Auror Shaklebolt told me to look for you. Maybe we can talk shop later?"

"You read him. Auror Zabini." He said flatly. "You're wandless. That's brilliant. Does it hurt? I've heard it hurts."

She smiled. "It hurts, but it's occasionally worth it to put a prick in his place." Lyra replied warmly.

The room erupted in snorts of laughter. Even Zabini laughed.

"Anyway," Lyra started. "The case - short version. Compulsion of unknown origin, manifesting in erratic stalking behavior escalating towards obsession and possible violence towards a single target. Our victim, the compelled, is Draco Malfoy, an old-blood with a history of probation for use of dark magic and a penchant for substance abuse. The only suspect at this point is his father, Lucius, a former Death Eater and bastard of unimaginable proportions. Now, since he's served time, he's got the trace, so we know this isn't Imperious. Our goal here is to find the younger Malfoy, separate him from his target, isolate the form of compulsion and neutralize it. I've got copies here of the report I made for your head Auror about Malfoy's correspondence to the target and all information we have so far about his father's possible involvement. Please review it at some point. Questions for me?" She looked around.

"Do we know the target?" Rossman asked.

"We do. It's me." Lyra replied calmly.

"Bloody hell. It's you!" Zabini exclaimed.

"Yes, Zabini, thank you. I just said that."

"No I mean. You're the American girl!" He continued.

"Uh. Yes. I am an American girl. As I'm sure you can hear from the accent. Your astute contributions are truly indispensable, Auror." She quipped, hoping her sarcasm would hide her alarm. He knew something.

Zabini narrowed his eyes at her, but dropped it. _Clever boy,_ she thought.

Harry took over from there, providing assignments and working groups. He put Lyra with Gold and they retreated to a storage room and spent some time going over the No-maj equipment together, which he assessed with a very Scottish combination of suspicion and reluctant interest.

Twirling one of the lock picking implements in his fingers, he pegged her with the million dollar question; "Alright then, lass. These aren't gonna do you much good unless you can get them in the right spot. What's your plan?" He asked, skeptically.

"Probationary visit?" She suggested. "I mean, I don't know your courts very well, but we could talk to your magical law enforcement guys and try that angle."

"It's not a bad idea, though you have to be careful with these people with too much money. Rich people are...right odd, they are. Get their claws in everywhere, even the Ministry. Gotta be careful who you talk to." He replied.

"That's a good point," she conceded, rubbing her temples. "I'm not sure, to be honest, but I do think this approach, with the Muggle-tech is our best bet. We just need to get in the door."

Gold looked at his watch. "Closing time for tonight, lass?" He asked.

Lyra looked at her phone, and sighed, seeing that it was about six. "Yeah, I guess we should."

He gruffed in agreement.

They walked back to the main office where she met Harry and they walked out to the atrium of the Ministry together to floo back to Grimmauld Place. As they were passing the great fountain in the lobby, Zabini walked up to them and asked to speak to Lyra alone. Lyra was hesitant at first, knowing that he was kind of a pig and had very recently been thinking about her underwear, but she nodded to Harry who wandered off to pick up a Daily Prophet. She watched him walk away before rounding on Draco's old friend.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"He told me about you." He replied plainly.

"I'm the American girl." She echoed from earlier.

"He was wrecked." The wizard told her.

"Wrecked?" She asked.

"That spring, before the battle. He'd left Hogwarts right after Dumbledore was killed, but I saw him in Knockturn when I was on break. He was in bad shape. We got pissed together and he just started spewing his guts. It was awful. Voldemort was holding court at his house, torturing and killing people on his dining room table. He kept going on about a girl. Some American he was mad on. Beautiful, bossy, dark hair. He wanted to find a way out of England to get to her, but he didn't want to leave his mother who wouldn't leave without the old man. I guess he was delusional, still convinced that he would win favor back with old snakeface."

Lyra swallowed hard. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I read your report. You think the intended target was Astoria Greengrass but it got messed up, yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean it's a theory." She answered.

"Right, well what if it's a specific kind of compulsion that makes you go after someone you love? Some kind of revenge hex or potion or whatever. It makes you latch on to someone you care about. Maybe, as evidenced by the nasty divorce, Astoria wasn't really an option."

"That's insane, Zabini. I haven't seen Draco in like a decade." She said.

"Well, first cut is the deepest, pet and I can tell you, that boy was in love with you. When I saw him again at the battle of Hogwarts it was like he was either full raging or dead frozen. Going everywhere and nowhere at once. That's more than just trauma. I know trauma. That's heartbreak."

She felt her heart clench at the thought of him that way. She shook the thought from her mind and turned her attention back to the wizard in front of her.

"Ok, so you're working with Rossman, right? Why don't you cross reference spells, hexes and maybe potions with compulsive power that anchor to strong emotion."

"Love." He shot, humor bleeding back in to his tone.

"I think that's bullshit." She answered, shaking her head. "I know him, and so do you for that matter. I feel like if he were going to attach to anyone in that way it would be his son or his mother, not some random girl he hasn't seen in years."

Zabini frowned the kind of frown you see on overconfident people who get knocked down a peg. "Yeah." He said. "I don't know. I haven't talked to him since his wedding." He said, sounding tired.

"Hey, it's not a bad idea. It's better than the nothing we have now," She supplied, ever the diplomat.

"Right, well, I'll be off. I have a date." He said perking up with a smirk.

"Because of course you do," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Goodnight, love." He said.

"Go, you vile thing. And remember that no means no." She quipped, as he walked away chuckling.

She collected Harry from a bench and they flooed back to Harry's together to be overfed by Ginny and listened to James talk about getting to pet a Niffler at the zoo.

* * *

 **Niffler** \- A magical creature, with a similar appearance to a platypus that lives predominately in North America. They are attracted to shiny objects, especially jewels and coins.


	7. Chapter 7

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain  
Tuesday**

Harry and Lyra flooed in to the office the next day, which was a Tuesday. Lyra had come to hate Tuesdays. She received letters on Tuesdays and her nervous response by now was practically Pavlovian. She'd received her last letter from the stalker...from Draco on a Sunday, which was atypical, so she had no idea what to expect now. The convolution of the whole thing made her head spin in irritation. Knowing it was him, beginning to unravel this incredible web of family dysfunction. She hated it. It was a strange feeling for her. Typically, moving towards resolution on a case left her extremely satisfied. Not this time.

By the time they broke for lunch, Lyra was on edge. She'd spent a largely wasted morning with Simpkins trying to build his Occlemency. He was terrible. The only achievements of their session were that he broke a decent sweat and Lyra had learned that he was both in love with Rossman and afraid of centaurs. She went by herself to the little faux-bistro off the atrium to drink all the coffee and writhe alone in her anxiety. Her solitude was interrupted by Harry who just had to go over with her some dead end about the vital magical differences between English and Arctic moss and how it could all relate to this concept of a blind, that nobody yet understood.

She was about to shove a scone in his mouth to stop him when she heard a female voice call from behind her shoulder.

"Harry Potter?"

Harry looked up and Lyra looked over her shoulder to see a tall, glamorous, blonde woman approaching their table.

 _Holy shit._ Lyra thought.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes, dear. How are you? How is...Jenny?"

"Ginny. She's very well. Er...would you like to sit?" Harry offered.

"Yes, thank you." She situated herself next to him, placing her gorgeous designer bag in the chair next to Lyra.

"So...what brings you to the ministry today?" Harry inquired innocently.

"Well, I know you work for the Auror department and I was wondering if you have any connections with any of the heads of Magical Law Enforcement." She said.

"For what purpose?" He pressed.

"Well..." She looked around nervously, "I...I'm worried about Draco. I know you two boys didn't exactly get along..."

"That is the understatement of the century, Mrs. Malfoy." Harry interjected.

The woman gave a trilly little laugh and continued sweetly, "Perhaps, but he's been out of touch for several weeks and has even been missing visits with his son, which is quite unlike him."

"Why not just approach the MLE yourself. I'm sure you'd warrant an audience."

"Thank you for saying so," she replied, acknowledging his deference to her station, "but I keep getting put out at every turn. No one I have connections with will return my owls. So I came here myself, waited in an actual queue to see someone and those horrid little goblins turned me away. I was on my way home now when I saw you." She explained.

Narcissa paused, waiting for Harry to infer some kind of meaning from her words. When he remained silent, she locked eyes with Lyra across the table, seeking solidarity, before cocking her perfectly coiffed head to the side. "Do I know you from somewhere?" She asked.

"I don't think so. I'm Lyra. Lyra Black."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly in distaste, but Lyra caught the nuance.

"An American Black, how...extraordinary." She assessed without inflection.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm on an exchange from New York." Lyra offered politely, swallowing her bitterness.

"Hmmm, well don't go running off with any of our secrets. You're very lucky to get to work with Mr. Potter here. He's a credit to his profession." She beamed prettily at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "So you're hoping I can connect you with someone inside MLE?"

"Well, now I'm rather hoping I can interest you in helping me yourself. I could pay you quite easily..."

"Mrs. Malfoy, I really don't think that's entirely appropriate-" he began.

"I need someone my husband doesn't own." She whispered urgently, leaning in towards Harry.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." she sighed warily. "I'm saying my husband has influence everywhere in this building and I think he's using it to keep me from making any legitimate inquiries about my son." She leaned back in her chair, exhausted as if the admission of an imperfection in her personal life had zapped all of her energy. "You, I am sure, are not the kind of person he could buy."

Lyra had to admit it. Narcissa Malfoy had guts. She also had a good point, and seemed like more than just your average rich socialite. Suddenly, Lyra had an idea...not a good idea per se, but an idea nonetheless. She needed to vet this woman and flip her like a pancake. She was running out of options and out of patience.

"Harry. I need her." She commanded forcefully.

Harry and Narcissa both looked at her, surprised and confused.

"I might be able to help you find your son." She pinned Narcissa with a heavy stare, her politeness from before completely gone. "Put her in an interview room. Give me 15 minutes" she snapped at Harry before getting up and hurrying away from the table, leaving both remaining occupants stunned.

* * *

After a quick splash of water on her face in the sink, and a quick touch-up of her makeup, Lyra approached Harry outside of the interrogation room.

"What are you on about with all this? We have no reason to trust this woman." He shot at her.

"I think you know better than most people that that is bullshit." She fired back.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The file you gave me, remember? I know you testified for her. She protected you from Voldemort in exchange for information about Draco. She would do anything for him. I think I can use her." Lyra explained.

"You think you can turn her against Malfoy?"

"I think if I give her the right information, I might have a shot." She paused a moment before adding, "I'm not telling her anything before reading her though. If I try, will Shacklebolt have my head? How do you do that here?"

"You can't use Legilimency on her without her consent in an interview."

"So I have to get her to let me do it." She pondered.

"I would love to see you try." Harry quipped.

 _Challenge accepted, Potter._ Lyra opened the door to the small interrogation suite and entered. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting regally at the bare table that occupied the bulk of the room. She ignored Lyra's presence in favor of twirling a huge emerald ring lazily around one of her fingers, watching it catch the light. Lyra wordlessly took the seat across from her and cleared her throat.

"Mrs. Malfoy, thank you for agreeing to speak with me." She began.

"Do you know where my son is?" the woman asked in a flat tone.

"No." Lyra replied honestly.

"Then bring Mr. Potter back and go back home." Narcissa bit out cruelly.

"I always thought he got the snobby divisiveness from his father alone. Guess I was wrong. Color me impressed." Lyra challenged.

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow in interest. "You don't know anything about me or my family."

Lyra laughed. It was haughty and confident, something she was capable of, but didn't employ unless forced because she considered it rude and typically unhelpful. Not today.

"Spare me, Mrs. Malfoy. You're a Black. I am your family. Narcissa Black. Descendant of Phinaeus Nigellus Black through Cygnus, Pollux and Cygnus."

Narcissa rolled her eyes in annoyance as Lyra continued, "Lyra Black. Descendant of Phinaeus Nigellus Black through Phinaeus the younger, Regulus, Caelum and Alistair."

"Thank you, Ms. Black for proving you can read a writ of pedigree, I didn't know idiot Americans were capable," the woman sneered.

"Even better, Mrs. Malfoy, I didn't have to read a thing. Your son was kind enough to take me through it when we were children. I've known him since he was eleven. I believe he's in trouble. I'm trying to find him. I'm not an idiot and I am not here by accident."

"You." Narcissa gasped, stunned. "The silly little girl from Ilvermorny. Severus's little ward."

"You've heard of me?" Lyra asked, genuinely surprised.

"I'm his mother, you think we didn't talk?"

The tension between the two women was suddenly palpable in the tiny room. Lyra should have chosen her next words carefully, especially in the presence of a Slytherin mother snake, but she was tired of Narcissa's superior attitude and went for blood instead.

"I think aristocrats are weird and ship their children off to be raised by surrogates. So I honestly have no idea." Lyra replied in a steely tone before continuing. "I studied legilimency with him under Professor Snape. I've spent hours inside Draco's head. I know he loves you, fears your husband and hates how you're treated at home. I know he would love any child born to him with fierce abandon and would never willingly miss time with them. He spent most of his childhood away from home his family. He never wanted that for his children. You must know he resented you for it."

"Enough!" Narcissa exclaimed, voice rising. "Did you bring me in here to help me find my son or simply give me a retelling of my own failures."

"No, ma'am. I want your help."

"Well, obviously. I'll do anything. What can I do?"

"Right now, not a damn thing. I don't trust you."

"HE IS MY SON!" Narcissa roared, standing from her chair and looking down at Lyra with pure venom. "You have no right, none whatsoever to impede my looking for him!"

"I'm not impeding you at all, Mrs. Malfoy. Go ahead, walk out that door and keep looking on your own. Good luck to you, give my regards to your husband." Lyra shot back without emotion. _Bingo._ She thought to herself.

Narcissa's pale skin flushed pink as she caught her breath after the outburst. She lowered herself slowly back in to the chair and regarded Lyra sadly.

"What do you want. Money? Influence?" I can give you both.

"I want you to do 2 things for me. Little things. Simple things. Painless things. That's all." Lyra replied shrewdly.

"Right then, out with it." Narcissa said with a roll of her eyes.

"I want to read your mind. If I like what I see, I'll tell you the second request."

Narcissa widened her eyes in disbelief. "Do you honestly believe I'm involved in the disappearance of my own son! You're mad!"

"No, ma'am I do not. Not at all. I need to know one thing about you. That's it. I'm a very skilled and very precise legilimens. I won't go poking around for gossip. I need one thing from your mind before we proceed."

"Tell me what you're looking for," the woman pressed.

"Not a chance."

Narcissa drew a steady breath. "If I let you do this. You'll help me find my son and you will keep to yourself anything you see in my head. I need your word."

"You have it. I'll take the vow with you, if you want."

"No." Narcissa said with a flinch, before perking up. "I don't need to. If you cross me I can destroy you here, or across the pond. As you said...aristocrats are weird and you'd do well not to underestimate us." She said with smirk. She looked so much like her son in that moment that Lyra found herself smiling back with a kind of begrudging respect.

"I would expect no less." she replied. "Feel free to take a moment to prepare any shields you'd like to put in place. I can't guarantee that I won't cross them. If I believe they are hiding something I need, I will break them." Lyra gave her a gentle, almost sympathetic look.

"Fine." Narcissa replied.

Lyra stood and walked out to the door. She opened it to find Harry and Zabini standing outside looking at her with interest.

"We'll talk later. Zabini, I need you inside."

The wizard followed her in to the room.

Mrs. Malfoy's face brightened when she saw him. "Blaise! What a nice surprise! How are your parents dear?" She asked, as if she hadn't just had a gut wrenching conversation and was about to have her mind read.

"All doing well, Mrs. Malfoy. You get lovelier every time I see you." Zabini replied smoothly.

"Such a sweetheart." She chuffed.

"Anyway," Lyra cut in. "Mrs. Malfoy has kindly agreed to let me read her. Auror Zabini, I'd like you in the corner over there. Draw your wand please."

He stood in a corner of the room and Lyra stood in front of the table facing Mrs. Malfoy. She turned back to him to instruct "You will steady your wand on me and stun me if I perform any magic outside of standard legilimency. You will stun me if at any point Mrs. Malfoy appears to be in distress. Do you have any questions?"

Zabini furrowed his brow and raised his wand to point at Lyra's chest.

"Thank you, Auror." She said flatly before turning her back to him and focusing her attention back on her subject.

"Mrs. Malfoy take 3 deep breaths please."

Narcissa inhaled deeply expecting the woman across from her to let her prepare herself before the assault. She had scarcely begun to exhale her first breath when the American produced her wand and cast her spell. She moved so quickly, it seemed like apparation.

"Legilimens -" Lyra commanded, her wand leveled at the blonde woman's forehead.

 _Classless bitch, that was a trick. Get on with it and help me find my son._

Lyra flipped through Narcissa's recent memories like pages of a book. She saw that she had received a recent owl from her son that seemed...off. Unlike him. Too stiff, too formal. Rather than allay her fears that Draco was missing, it exacerbated them and made her worry that her husband was complicit, as it came too shortly after they'd had a conversation about his absence. Narcissa was hoping that her husband was simply trying to spare her the truth of one of Draco's dark, depressive spells. In the past when he felt melancholy, he would run off to Italy or Portugal and return to the Manor weeks later drunk, high and broke. He hadn't done that since Scorpius was born and it made her sick to think that he could be returning to his old ways. She wished he would just come home. She'd rather he be a mess in the manor than gods-know-where. She'd spent so much time with him away from her. She resented her husband's condescending dismissal of her concerns and willingness to write Draco off as a drunken loafer. That wasn't him at all. Not her son. He was complicated. Sensitive. Thoughtful. Better than people knew.

Lyra saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy living in separate wings of their giant manor, often going days without seeing one another. They observed all mutual courtesies as expected between pure-blood couples - door holding, mutual attendance at social events, kisses on the hand. All of the shallow visual indicators of a healthy marriage were there, but like so many others, they were meaningless. Something fundamental had broken between them during the second war. Lucius Malfoy had risked the life of her only son to gain favor with the Dark Lord. That wasn't supposed to happen. He had smashed their reputation, made them outcasts. It was a profound betrayal and she would never trust him again.

She hated him and she feared him, power hungry narcissist that he was. He had also seemed more unstable of late, even frazzled. He took to spending days alone in the east wing of the house. Once, out of concern that he'd starved to death and would ruin the carpets, she'd even gone so far as to seek him out in his solitude. The only thing she got for her trouble was a self righteous lecture about her 'hysterical pestering' and a nose full of the smell of burning wormwood that still clung to her favorite Balenciaga jacket. She felt alone and sick with worry and rage.

Lyra pulled back abruptly feeling her stomach coil with nausea, sharing the feeling of sickness that Narcissa had been telegraphing with her mind. She placed a hand on the table to steady herself and schooled her face to avoid looking at the woman across from her with pity. It would not be welcome, she knew that much.

"Ok, Mrs. Malfoy. You made me a believer." She said feigning confidence and looking at the older woman who was panting lightly from exhaustion.

"Oh good," Narcissa quipped, sarcastically.

"You didn't put up any shields for me. Why?"

Narcissa gave a sad smile. "I'm tired. Sick of lies, sick of pretending. My memories? Have at them. What good are they when my son may be out there dying for all I know. He's the only good thing I've ever done and I just want him back."

Lyra's heart stung at her admission. She sat down so she could be at eye level with the woman, with Draco's mother, who was afraid and angry and felt helpless. Lyra felt more than sympathy for her. She felt a sense of commiseration.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I think a part of you already knows what I'm going to say."

Narcissa shut her eyes and shook her head sadly before speaking, "Lucius...he did something, didn't he."

"It's not confirmed, but I believe he did, yes." Lyra said sadly.

Narcissa looked up at her with a look of furious determination. "Right, well fuck him. Tell me what to do. Anything."

Zabini choked out a noise of surprise in the corner at the Malfoy matriarch's choice of words. Lyra and Narcissa both shot daggers at him with their eyes and he fell silent.

"I need you to bring something into your house for me so we can monitor him and get more information."

"We have ancient magical wards, Ms. Black, designed to prevent these kinds of things. What are you considering?" Narcissa explained.

"Something neither your husband nor your house will see coming. Something muggle-made." Lyra replied.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes skeptically.

"Nothing crazy. You know Extendable Ears? Like from the Weasley Brothers? It's the same concept, just no-maj...er...muggle."

Narcissa thought for a moment before responding "I'll do it. Show me."

Lyra sighed in relief...and victory.

"Why are YOU doing this? Seems like you've come a long way..." the blonde inquired.

Lyra decided against telling her about Draco's stalking or her intimate connection to the whole mess so she went with an omission, but not a lie.

"I studied with him for years, I know his mind. As both a legilimens and an Auror, I have a gift for profiling. I can help, but most importantly...I...give a damn. He was my friend. He deserves better." Lyra replied.

Narcissa was intelligent enough to catch the whiff of an omission but decided not to say anything about it. "Right, show me to your abominable muggle whatsits so I can spy on my husband," she said with an enthusiastic clap of her elegant hands.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Lyra began. "I don't know exactly where Draco is, but I do know that he is in or around London, alive, and unhurt, to the best of our knowledge. I want you to know that."

Narcissa choked out a weak sob, quickly gathering an embroidered handkerchief from her bag to eradicate any evidence of tears. "Thank you Ms. Black, and I really do apologize for calling you a classless bitch."

Lyra laughed. "You didn't, ma'am, you just thought it, which is completely allowed," she said with her first genuine smile of the day.

* * *

Author's Note - I've done some housekeeping on this fic. Patching holes, making better headings, fixing the timeline a bit. No significant plot points have changed. Thanks for reading and please review to help me make this a better story!


	8. Chapter 8

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain  
Tuesday, Continued**

Lyra spent several hours prepping Mrs. Malfoy for her task. As it turned out, she was a remarkable quick study and seemed to be genuinely excited to spy on her own husband. Gold was absolutely smitten with her and said that she was welcome any time and would make a hell of an Auror. Mrs. Mallfoy didn't respond to the praise, but Lyra could swear she saw a faint blush under the woman's lovely and painstakingly applied makeup.

Lyra had discussed with the team about transporting the receiver for the little objects back to Harry's home so that she could screen the output for important information herself. It was a small, inoffensive thing and Lyra had no problem schlepping it back and forth on a daily basis. Simpkins would have the daunting task of reviewing the archived audio for anything that Lyra missed or if, you know, she wanted to sleep at some point like a normal person.

As Lyra was packing up the bugs in to their black box, she and Draco's mother discussed some ideas for maximizing the potential of the tiny machines. _Well, there's a sureal turn of events_ , Lyra thought to herself.

"Do you think it would be wise to charm them to isolate human voices? I wonder also if you could spell them in a temporal sense to increase their range..." Narcissa inquired.

Lyra widened her eyes in surprise. If she had to guess a person in all the world to pose ideas that could possibly spur a revolution of magic-muggle espionage technology, it would not be Mrs. Malfoy. Nevertheless, her suggestions were good, and potentially ground breaking.

"I think in this case, out of respect for the unknown wards in your home, we should avoid altering them, but your ideas are awesome, actually. I'd never even considered that." Lyra responded sincerely.

"Well, that'll be the Ravenclaw in me." The blonde woman quipped, with a shake of her head.

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked.

"I was a Slytherin, naturally, but during my sorting ceremony when I was a girl at Hogwarts, we...we have this hat that assigns the students to their houses. I think it uses a form of object legilimency to read the person who wears it, but the hat told me that I would have made an excellent Ravenclaw. I remember being 11 years old, nervous as a housemouse, silently begging the old thing to make me a Slytherin like my parents, which it did."

"Ah. I see. We have something similar at Ilvermorny. Each student stands in the center of a room cornered by four statues. A statue will animate and claim the student it wants. Sometimes, more than one statue will claim a student and then the student has to choose." Lyra explained.

"And which statue claimed you?"

"All of them."

"Is that typical?"

"Um..no, it's not." Lyra said, a little embarrassed. Not only was being claimed by all four houses a rarity, but it made her a bit of a celebrity for a time and put a lot of unwanted pressure and attention on her. One reason, aside from Draco, that she hadn't totally loathed her visits to Hogwarts was that she was a nobody there and no one expected her to be amazing at everything she did. Best of all, when it came to Severus's evaluation of her performance, everything was always either very bad or just bad. His consistency had been quite reassuring to her as a child.

"So, which house did you choose?" Mrs. Malfoy inquired.

"Pukwudgie. The house represents the heart of a wizard, and it tends to pump out healers and starry-eyed poets."

"Can I ask why you picked it?" the woman pressed.

"For my mother, Marla. She was a Pukwudgie in her day and she's the best person I know." Lyra shrugged.

Narcissa regarded Lyra thoughtfully for a moment. Lyra could almost swear she saw a flash of affection cross her features, but it was gone before she had the chance to confirm it.

"What on Earth is a Pukwudgie?" Narcissa inquired, puzzled.

Lyra laughed. "Well...it's kind of like a goblin. My school was crawling with them. They did security and a lot of the maintenance work. I love them." She hesitated before continuing "Draco he...he used to call me Puk to tease me when we were kids. I remember when I was 14 I bought him this ridiculous little statue of a Pukwudgie in a tuxedo for Christmas. He got me the most beautiful earrings. You should have seen his face. It was hilarious."

Narcissa squinted her eyes for a moment before exclaiming. "So that's what that thing is! It is absolutely atrocious. He put it on his bookshelf in his bedroom and forbade me throwing it away. It's still there, actually." She explained before continuing. "As the offender of all good taste I insist you come and remove it at once. I may even permit you to stay for dinner."

Lyra paused her work to look up at the woman across from her, shocked. She swallowed hard before speaking. "I would like that, but I think we should wait and make Draco do it." She smiled tentatively at her, hoping she hadn't gone too far.

Quite the contrary. Narcissa gave a small chuckle, which would be practically a full belly laugh for anyone not so well controlled. "I think that would be fine," she replied before changing the subject.

"So, your father is a Black. Who are your mother's people?"

"All people are my mother's people," Lyra countered, mostly because she knew that would be her mother's response to such a question. "But she is a Calderon by birth."

"I know the name. It's an old family...for America." Narcissa replied, adding the last bit in haste.

"I suppose. My mother's arm of the family is quite small. I only have one aunt on her side and 1 cousin. My grandparents are still alive and live in Queens. They're wonderful people. My grandmother, Bedelia was the originator behind the _torsius episkey_ spell for advanced healing of spiral bone fractures. She's kind of a legend. My grandmother, aunt and mother are all mediwitches. They tried their best with me, but I was always better at a hex than a heal...what can I say?"

Narcissa gave a small smile.

"Ok. I think we are all set." Lyra said, handing a small box wrapped in thick artisan wrapping and a ribbon, over to Draco's mother. It was Narcissa's idea to disguise the box as a present. She was forever buying trinkets and bits for friends and acquaintances and felt confident that it would arise far less suspicion this way than as a black tactical box with metal handles.

"Remember, the best spots are places he thinks he can speak in confidence, even just to himself. The study. The library. The east wing like you mentioned."

"Yes yes. I know." The older woman dismissed.

"Please be careful. Draco would never forgive me if you ran in to trouble while you were spying for us. I would never forgive me." Lyra said seriously.

Narcissa, in a stunning display of emotion, reached a thin, pale hand out to Lyra and tucked a wayward strand of her long black hair back behind her ear. "Not to worry, dear. I've been getting the better of that man since before you were born." She said with a wink before turning on her designer heels and exiting the room like a queen.

Lyra stood, rooted to the spot for a moment. She had to admit, she admired the hell out of Narcissa Malfoy. Sure, she was an uppity aristocrat. But she was brave, smart and would do anything to protect a loved one. That being said...if you weren't a loved one, or worse, if she hated you...then god help you. Draco was a lot like her. It made sense to her now why their bond was so strong.

Harry entered the small equipment room at that moment and broke her from her reverie. "You really think this is a good idea, Black?"

"Oh hell, no. But I think even if this gives us nothing, if Lucius Malfoy isn't the talk out loud type, we at least know that his wife isn't involved and that she's on our side here." Lyra retorted.

"You have a point."

"Well thank you ever so kindly, Lord Potter." Lyra quipped.

"Ugh. You know, the more I get to know you, it's like I can almost hear Malfoy's pratty little voice coming out of your mouth. It's awful," Harry bit out at her.

"You're awful!"

"Your face is awful!"

"Bullshit," Lyra baited.

"Yeah...so what?!"

"So...when you talk, Harry, does it make sense to you? That is all I'm asking."

"Sod off."

"You are so disgustingly British sometimes that it causes me physical pain."

"Shut it."

"Good talk, Potter. Let's go home so Ginny and I can berate you in tag-team."

"Fine." Harry said roughly, but Lyra could see his smirk.

They had almost made it to the floos in the atrium when Colin, Harry's...minion(?), Lyra wasn't entirely sure of his function, caught up with them. "Miss Black, wait!" he called to her, breathless. He approached her and passed her a small blue box. "This just came for you. I don't know if it's from your Ministry, or whatever you call it. But it's addressed to you."

Lyra looked down at it with her brow furrowed. "Thanks, Colin. I appreciate it."

The young blonde wizard murmured a response she didn't hear and excused himself back to the office. Lyra felt the all too familiar snakes of rage and fear begin to coil low in her belly as she regarded the unoffensive little box in her hand. She drew a deep breath and looked up at her friend. "Well...I mean it can't be a bomb, right? Too small. Poison beetle? Probably not, Draco hates bugs."

Harry looked at her sadly. "Give it to me."

"Not a chance. Ginny will kill me if you take a hex to the face while opening a murder box intended for me." Lyra responded.

Harry grabbed the box from her hands and ran down the long corridor of black granite and fireplaces. Lyra pursued him, but she was no match for him in her heels. "YOU GET BACK HERE! DONT YOU DO IT HARRY POTTER! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!" she shouted after him in vain.

Lyra saw Harry, a ways ahead, flip open the little box and peer inside. Lyra paused. He drew his wand, pointed it at the object inside and started muttering incantations, a thin white mist emitting from the tip of his wand, swirling around the box. _Diagnostic spells_ , Lyra thought. Checking to see if whatever it was had been hexed or cursed.

"It's clean, Lyra, relax." Harry said with an almost confused tone.

Lyra approached him warily. "Give it to me," she said, holding out her hand.

Harry passed the box over to her and Lyra saw what it contained. Her stomach lurched and she thought she was going to be sick. Harry grabbed her arm firmly to steady her, a look of concern on his face. "What is it? Does it mean something to you?"

Lyra took a few moments to right herself and calm her breathing before she explained. "Yeah, yeah it does. That is fucking gross."

"Well what the devil is it?"

"It the Quatrefoil. The Malfoy Quatrefoil."

"What does that mean?"

"It's one of their sigils, typically for women. For the...for their wives. Did you see Mrs. Malfoy's ring?" Lyra said, starting to feel sick again.

"Ok...so what. So he's like claiming you or something?"

"I...I don't know. Christ. What is he doing?" Lyra said, shaking her head.

"Hey," he squeezed her arm to get him to look up at her. "Little perspective here, Auror. It wasn't a faceful o' hex or a pod of horned scorpions. Could be worse, eh?"

Lyra deflated, pinning him with an annoyed gaze. "It's just terrible and intimate and insane and I hate it...so that's all." She said with a sarcastic shrug.

"We'll get him. We'll fix this," Harry said in reassurance. "You know, it's kind of pretty, actually."

"It is. And it should be around the neck of some vapid pureblood floozy, not in my hands," Lyra said taking one last angry look at the curling white gold clover set with flawless rock emeralds and diamonds hanging from a delicate chain. She shut the box with a hard snap and looked back to Harry.

"Let's get coffee on the way home. We're staying up late to listen for when that crazy old bastard spills his crazy old guts and then we are ending this shit."

"Oh good. For a minute there, I thought we were going to overreact." Harry deadpanned.

"Excellent idea. You buy," She replied reaching for a handful of floo powder.

* * *

 **Author's note** \- As always, I own nothing. This world, and my soul belong to JK Rowling. A lot of the Ilvermorny backstory from this is straight from Pottermore. It's a cool read, if you're in to that sort of thing. I also changed the thumbnail for this story to a picture of the quatrefoil I used when writing this chapter. Why a quatrefoil? Mainly because it's a French word, like Malfoy. Simple as that. Pure genius, I know. I figure that, during their time as friends, and given Draco's views on blood status as a child, their friendship would have included some lessons about the 'glorious' history of his family. In my mind, that is why Lyra knows the significance of the quatrefoil. Thanks for reading! -MM

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	9. Chapter 9

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Grimmauld Place**  
 **Wednesday morning...at an ungodly hour**

Lyra paced haphazardly around Harry's sitting room, a spelled pair of headphones connected cordlessly to the receiver on the desk. It was a little past one in the morning and the rest of the house was long since asleep.

Lyra liked staying up late. She enjoyed the quiet mystery of the sleeping world and enjoyed the eccentric night-owls that lived their lives inside of that well kept secret. Fortunately for her, Lucius Malfoy seemed to agree. He was awake and listening to Wagner ( _pfft...typical_ ) in his study. She could also hear the sound of a quill scratching on parchment and the quiet crackle of a fire. She would occasionally register a masculine sigh or a baritone cough that reassured her that she wasn't just listening to Narcissa or a poetry-writing house elf.

She heard the quiet cry of a small child from inside Harry's house and shifted one of the cups of her headphones off of her ear. It was Albus. He was a light sleeper, like Lyra. He was also an incredibly reliable midnight snacker. She hadn't met another person outside of her father, Alistair, that was so dedicated to the cause of nocturnal snackery. It was admirable.

She made her way out of the sitting room, down the hallway to Albus's small room where she intercepted a very exhausted looking Ginny Potter.

"I can get him a bite and put him back down, Gin. You should sleep." Lyra said softly, just outside of the bedroom.

"My heart, I could kiss you." Ginny replied with a yawn.

"Hey, that's fine. Just no photos and you have to brush your teeth first." Lyra quipped, entering the room and bending over the crib to lift up the sad little boy who reached for her with an adorable pout.

"Hm. Fried onions and the whole editorial staff of The Quibbler?" Ginny fired back without hesitation.

"You read my mind." Lyra smiled back, gently swaying back and forth with Albus. "Go, honey. We'll be fine."

Ginny mumbled a tired "goodnight" before making her way back down to her and Harry's bedroom.

Lyra carried her wee friend down the stairs, chatting to him softly, and got him some warm milk and little cookies. She noticed in her phoned ear that Lucius Malfoy had stopped his music and she heard only ambient noise in the room. No quill scratch. He was moving.

She reluctantly trudged back up to the sitting room with Albus. He was working on his snack and covering the pair of them quite impressively with cookie crumbs. Lyra didn't mind. He was her little buddy. She liked him. His loudest producible sound was probably a quarter of his brother's standard volume. James was a good kid. He just had so much energy, she couldn't keep up. This guy, though. This guy she could handle.

She shifted Albus far on to one hip and started flipping channels on the receiver to tune in different bugs. She almost switched past the channel for one placed inside some vast echoing room within the manor when she picked up a faint noise that sounded like a whisper or a gentle mumble. It slowly increased in sound, as the speaker moved closer to the device.

 _Damned boy. He can't even kill a stupid woman when cursed to do it. I wonder who she is. Maybe some Nagini whore at the House in London...the augmentation is worth a try. The little rat seems to need some incentive to perform._

The voice faded again and Lyra concluded that he was pacing. _It is compulsion. I fucking knew it._ Lyra fiddled with the sensitivity knobs on the receiver to try and hear more. _Should have taken Narcissa's advice and spelled the damn things._ Just then, Lyra heard in the headphones what sounded like glass and metal knocking together as if someone was rummaging through a cupboard.

Lyra heard the man spell a fire to life somewhere in the room and moments later she heard him begin to speak in a low voice. His distance from the bug made her have to strain to hear him, and she only caught every few words. It was a cast, of that she was certain but it was in a language she was unable to identify.

 _ajaa takaa...veri totta...rakkaus ja vakivalta..._

The man continued muttering and Lyra felt her heart accelerate in her chest. She had no idea what Malfoy was casting, but as an Auror, she was trained to know when she was in the presence of dark magic. She could feel it in her bones. The child in her arms began to stir anxiously, as if he could sense it as well. He let out an uncomfortable whine and Lyra ripped the headphones off her head, throwing them on the couch before heading quickly back to his room to put him to bed. It was as if she instinctively wanted to put as much space as possible between the unholy sound and the little boy.

She walked warily back to the sitting room and stared nervously at her headphones on the couch. She took a deep breath, collecting her nerves and took a tentative step towards them. She realized then, though she was several feet from them that she could hear Lucius Malfoy. He was screaming. Enraged words. She was terrified, but she needed to hear it.

Blood racing, Lyra ran to the headphones and slammed them over her ears, the noise within them deafening. His voice was inhuman, scratchy like a growl. Black and twisted. It sounded like...a demon, which was unfair to demons, really. Even they didn't sound this terrifying.

 _tuhota ja tuhota, murskaa luu ja, surmata-SURMATAAAA, OTTAA HENGILTA!_

The lights flickered around her. The lights in Harry's house. Lyra took the headphones down around her neck and looked around her, holding her breath. She could still hear the man's screaming pour out in muted form in to the sitting room.

To fully analyze what happened next would take Lyra hours of careful recollection but the final version on the deposition would read as follows: She first heard a knock at the window, which made her jump. She saw an owl fluttering impatiently outside and walked to the window to let him in. She detached the little scroll from his leg before he flew away in haste. Lyra unrolled the scroll immediately and read...

Lyra,  
I don't know if you will get this, as I don't know where you are, but I am sure now that Lucius has done something to Draco. The ballroom in the east wing is full of the most terrifying things. Blood, claws, Draco's clothes, dismembered animals. I don't feel comfortable in the Manor right now and have left to go somewhere safe. You have to arrest him, now. I know darkness when I see it and what he's doing is beyond anything I've encountered. I don't know what to make of it. Please help my son. Please be careful. I've left the floo open for you, please hurry. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.  
Yours,  
Narcissa Malfoy

Lyra was starting intently at the scroll in her hands when she was surprised again by the sudden cessation of noise from the headphones around her neck. She looked up, confused. She didn't have much time to enjoy the absence of sound, however, because several seconds after his screaming stopped, she was startled by a desperate knock on the door. It was terribly loud and shook the very pictures on the walls around her. She moved evenly out of the room to the top of the stairs. Peering down, she could see the door shake from the violent percussion taking place on the other side of it.

By this time, Albus had begun crying again and both Ginny and Harry were out in the hallway; Ginny going to the children and Harry joining her at the top of the stairs.

"What the - " Harry began.

"LYRA!" The voice beyond the door yelled, giving an extra hard pound to the door for emphasis. Harry and Lyra froze, recognizing the voice instantly.

"It's him. He's here." Lyra whispered.

"Sweetheart, open the door. I just want to look at you. You've been so far away. Across the street, across the sea. Always through the glass, always asleep. Just let me see you." Draco crooned sweetly through the wood separating them.

Lyra drew her wand from the pocket of the thin bathrobe she was wearing over her nightdress and waived it around her head gracefully whispering _lumina prohibere_ to extinguish all the lights in the house.

"LYRA OPEN THE DOOR!" he shouted, rage seeping in to his voice. He began pounding again on the door. She heard James's muffled cry from Albus's bedroom where Ginny had sequestered both of the children.

Lyra looked down towards the main landing of the house. Near the bottom of the staircase she was standing on she noticed a small cloud of sand swirling in agitation above the carpet. _The ward. Worth a shot..._ She had to wonder if it would make an exception for a homicidal half-Black trying to kill a faux-Black. She hoped so.

"Contact the office. We need to arrest Lucius Malfoy NOW. He's doing this Harry. I heard him," she whispered.

"And the ferret?" He asked gesturing towards the door.

"I am going to try something. If I can catch him, he'll need to be restrained," she explained as Draco's blows continued reigning on the door "preferably very hard," she added.

"I am not leaving you alone here to defend yourself against that lunatic," Harry protested.

"Well, someone has to notify the ministry."

Harry went to Albus's bedroom and quietly directed Ginny to contact the ministry and move to the back of the house with the children to hide, and run if necessary.

He rejoined her on the stairs. "Good?"

"Fine," she whispered.

She led Harry down the stairs, pointing out the swirling sand as they retreated back down the long hallway towards the kitchen.

"You think that'll work? I mean he's part Black..."

"I think it'll distract at the very least," Lyra replied.

Harry drew his wand and looked down at Lyra. "Ready?"

Lyra narrowed her eyes in determination. "Yeah," she said at full volume. "Hey, sandman, you ready?"

A torrent of swirling ash rose up in front of them, shielding them from the front door.

"DRACO STOP!" Lyra yelled.

The pounding on the door, which had grown tired and intermittent, stopped immediately.

"Let me in, Sweetheart. Please." he said darkly.

"Yeah, no thanks, Frog. You're not my type."

He laughed, but it sounded manic. "Lover, I am exactly your type." he replied with confidence.

"Not today, kid. Not fucking today" she countered.

She waited for a witty retort and got none. She could almost feel him pacing angrily on Harry's front landing. There was an eerie silence that fell between them and Lyra knew it wasn't over. He would fight. She needed only to hear the first syllable of his spell to reach over and tackle Harry gracelessly to the floor.

"BOMBARDA!" Draco screamed, shattering the door into a spray of splinters, and rendering Lyra momentarily deaf. The ward shielded them from the worst of the explosion but Lyra took a small piece of shrapnel to the arm while shielding Harry's face. The searing pain of it helped Lyra recover from the blast, which she did first. She lifted herself shakily on to her elbow and turned to try and make out Draco's shape beyond the wall of sand separating them, but she was still too disoriented. With a few quick shakes of her head she was able to hear above the ringing in her ears. The ward was shouting...

"You dare come to the noble and ancient house of your ancestors to shed blood?! You are not welcome here! GET OUT!"

The wall rushed forward then. Lyra leaped to her feet, a little dizzy, but ready to fight once the ward passed. It would just be the two of them and unless he was on dark magic steroids, she could take him wand to wand. She was certain of it.

The ward, much to her continued surprise, didn't disintegrate in to nothing as it had before. It started rotating rapidly around a tall black-clad figure at it's vortex. Draco.

He was screaming in pain and anger. She couldn't make out any of his features, aside from the occasional flash of his platinum hair. The fine grit was filling his mouth and scratching at his skin. His blurred shape began retreating blindly towards the exploded entrance of Harry's house while the ward roared at him.

Lyra fired several spells to stun him, but they ricocheted off the column of dust obscuring him from her vision. They did, however, seem to get his attention and he made a sprinting push out the door. The ward then flowed over the ruined hole that had once been Harry's front door, sealing it shut. The whole thing, from explosion to retreat couldn't have taken more than 60 seconds. Lyra was dumbfounded.

"He will not return, Miss Black...although I would like to see him try," the ward said, almost cocky.

"Wow. Thanks sandman! Or...ward? What's your name?" Lyra inquired, in shock and relief.

"Marius. Marius Black."

"You saved our lives Marius. Thank you. Hey, you're not really a ward are you? You're a ghost."

"That is true," the ghost replied.

"Impressive," Lyra mused, trying to cull the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

Harry groaned on the ground behind her and she went to see that he was okay. "Take it easy there, buddy. You're alright, but I have some unfortunate news about your foyer."

"What?" Harry asked, confused before noticing the gaping pit in the front of his house being covered by an animated wall of sand.

"MALFOY BLEW UP MY BLOODY HOUSE! THAT TOSSER! I'LL KILL HIM!"

"Later. Go check on your family. I trust Marius here, but I think they should stay somewhere else for a little while until things calm down."

"Marius?" Harry asked, rubbing his tender forehead.

"Marius Black. Your ward is not a ward. He's a ghost. That's why you can't get rid of him. Good thing too, because he just helped save our butts."

"Thanks?"

"Not at all, Mr. Potter," the wall replied.

"So...since we're friends now, are still going to blow my hat off every time I walk in the front door?"

There was a pause.

"Probably," Marius replied.

Harry huffed out a dry laugh and Lyra helped pull him to his feet, dusting some fragments of wood off his shirt.

"Thanks for the tackle, Black," he said to her.

"Well Harry, you can always count on me to take you down a peg when you really need it," she smiled.

"Are you ok?" he asked, referring to the thin shard of wood sticking out of her forearm, oozing blood.

"Oh yeah. It was either that or your face. I promised Ginny that if you and I got trapped in a fight I'd try my hardest to keep you pretty, so I was really doing it for her."

They heard Ginny call from upstairs. They both yelled in unison that they were fine.

"Get your family off somewhere safe and...you know, intact, and get yourself dressed. We need to go to work."

Harry glanced over at the clock on the wall and frowned. "2AM. You're buying this round of coffee," he said pointing a finger in her face.

"Oh for sure," Lyra said sweetly.

Harry turned and trudged up the stairs to gather his family and send them somewhere safe while he, once again, went off to battle monsters.

* * *

Author's note - Lucius's spell is in pieces but it includes phrases like "destroy," "crush bone," "kill," and "love and violence." More on it next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Wednesday Morning**

Lyra and Harry flooed in to the Ministry and made their way through the deserted building to the Auror department. The office itself was alive with staff called in form home as news of the attack at the Potter residence spread through the wires, as the English muggles would say.

Lyra connected with the team and went in to briefing with Shacklebolt and some official from standard Magicial Law Enforcement that she had never met. She and Harry recounted their stories first and she saw Harry visibly flinch when she recalled the point in the evening that the sound of Lucius Malfoy's terrible chanting had made Albus cry.

Though she continued speaking, she made a mental note to speak with him about everything that had happened. She had brought this into his home and it had endangered his children. In his place, Lyra would have been furious. Lyra was furious in her own right. She loathed the idea of Ginny and the boys being threatened because of what was happening. Ginny had welcomed her without hesitation, trusted her with her babies. And for her trust and her kindness, she had ended up in danger and a suffered a midnight flight from her own home.

Lyra played back from the receiver the audio of Malfoy mumbling about Draco's compulsion and, finally, portions of the screeching chant that made many people in the room shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"It's Finnish, I think," Simpkins said from the back.

"What?" Lyra inquired.

"It sounds like a variation of Finnish," he shrugged.

"Awesome, Simpkins, thanks!"

Lyra looked to the back of the room for Rossman and Zabini. "Did you two find anything like that in your research?"

"We'd only just started looking at Scandinavian curses after the Russian, but there was a Norwegian curse we found that would compel someone to kill a loved one. This could be a Finnish variant," Rossman began.

"I hear you, Rossman, but how would that apply to our case? Zabini and I have talked about this already," Lyra retorted.

"Because you can block people from it," Zabini piped up.

"Explain that," Lyra replied, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Right, so say you're a bitter Norwegian fishwife and you want to compel your husband to kill his mistress. You could theoretically use one of these spells to compel him to do that, but then say that you turn this curse on him and he goes off and kills your daughter, because she's what he loves the most. His child. Couple of those mistakes and you find a way to protect someone from being on the hit list," Zabini elaborated.

"Like...like a blind," Lyra exhaled, suddenly tired...too tired to take Zabini up on his blatant sexism.

"If you like," Zabini replied, pining her with a knowing stare.

Harry spoke next. "Kingsley, did the detachment sent to my home find Draco?"

"I'm sorry Harry, but no. He disappeared," Shacklebolt replied.

Harry gave a stiff nod.

Shacklebolt continued, "We're dispatching a team right now to apprehend the elder Malfoy."

"Well that's all well and good for questioning, but I remind you that this is hardly conclusive evidence," stated the representative from Magical Law Enforcement.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Lyra exclaimed. "I've seen convictions with half of the evidence that we have in front of us. I can't imagine that the legal bar for reasonable doubt can be so different here."

"Your doubts are none of my concern," chopped out the old wizard. "Lucius Malfoy is a powerful man and a patron of countless charities."

"Julian, that hardly makes it impossible for him to also be guilty of a crime," Shacklebolt countered, the tension in the room rising between the two wizards.

"Ah. You're one of his. Narcissa told me someone at MLE had been shutting her out. Was that you...Julian?" Lyra sneered, hoping to put him off guard.

The wizard looked at her incredulously and began to bluster out a response but Shacklebolt cut him off.

"Enough. We apprehend him. We question him. If we're right, we get him to undo whatever he's done and let the courts have him. Anything else is a clear violation of both the law and the public trust"

Lyra stared over at her stuffy opponent and raised an eyebrow. He emitted a jowly sound from his beet-red face and exited the room.

"What was all that then?" Gold inquired gruffly.

"Julian Diamond. I cannot stand that man." Shacklebolt replied. "Anyway, the extraction team is in the manor as we speak, thanks to Mrs. Malfoy leaving the door open for us. As long as he hasn't gone out for a 4AM pint, we should have him in custody soon."

"I'd like to question him." Harry stated flatly.

"Harry, do you think that's wise given everything that's happened?" Shacklebolt questioned.

"I don't know, but I'd like to do it myself," he replied.

"Can...since he's a suspect, can we use legilimency?" Lyra inquired.

"Technically you can. But you have to have just cause in the interview to do so." Shacklebolt responded.

"I think you should let Harry do it. He can destabilize Malfoy, make him give us a reason to read him," she pinned Harry with a serious gaze but continued addressing the Head Auror. "He can do it and he SHOULD do it, as the team lead."

Harry gave her a nearly imperceptible nod.

Shacklebolt looked back and forth between the two Aurors. "Alright, Harry. It's yours. Take an hour or so, get your notes in order. I'll let you know when we have him in a room."

"Great," Harry replied before walking out of the briefing room without further comment.

* * *

Lyra found Harry sitting on a couch in the main foyer of the Auror Department, staring in to a cup of tea. She lowered herself on the cushion next to him and stared forward into the round stone room.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lyra said.

"For what? You didn't do anything," Harry responded flatly.

"I brought this into your house. Close to...to your kids. I feel sick about it."

"It's not you." Harry bit out through gritted teeth.

"Look, I get that intellectually, but your family was threatened. There's not a lot of room for intellect in that kind of thing. It's OK to be mad at me, even if it's not my fault. I mean, hell. I'm even mad at me."

"It's Malfoy," Harry said.

"Draco?"

"No. Lucius. This isn't the first time he's come after people I love," Harry explained.

"I'm sure," Lyra replied. "He was a Death Eater. Who knows what he's done?"

"No. I mean...well, yes he was, but that's not what I mean. My second year he did something that almost got Ginny killed. She was eleven years old. Eleven." Harry explained.

"Holy shit, Harry. I had no idea. What did he do?"

"Hid a cursed diary in with her schoolbooks that put her in a trance and had her release a giant snake on the school. Tried to steal her soul to reanimate Voldemort. You know, the usual."

"Uhhhhh...that's fucked up." Lyra responded.

"I'm mad, and yes, as unreasonable as it is, some of that is at you. But mostly, I'm mad at him. I'm mad at a system that gives him an easy pass for being rich while he terrorizes children and hurts people to make the world more like him. Every time he's intimidated someone, every time he's made families run in the middle of the night, he wins. He gets closer to satisfaction. It makes my blood boil."

She regarded him silently, listening to his words. He reminded her of Patrick in that moment. Pragmatic. Wary of a clunky system that favored manipulators and crushed honest people. "Better to fight from the inside where you can do some good than stand on the outside and hope that, eventually, the cracks will show," Lyra offered, parroting words Patrick had said to her after their team was forced to pull out of a raid for political reasons which had left her mad as hell.

"Yeah. Something like that, I guess," he nodded.

"Tell you what. If they let that bastard off the hook after this, I swear to you, as your friend and fellow Auror, that I will burn this whole damn building to the ground. I'm an American. We're insane." Lyra deadpanned.

That did it. He laughed. He couldn't help it. The mental image of the slight, dark-haired witch lighting office curtains on fire in her high-heels, ranting about how 'you're making me do this.' It was too much. "I just might help you," he replied.

"And tarnish your reputation? Don't you dare. You leave the trouble-making to me," she smiled over at him, and he gave her a tight smirk back.

"I'll get over it, you know...being angry with you," he offered sincerely.

"I know you will. You take your time," she consoled. She hated the idea of her new friend being mad at her, but she knew how important it was to give him the space to work through everything without shallowly trying to defend herself. That's what good friends do, and she had every intention of being a good friend to this poorly dressed man who had done so much to help her.

A silence fell over them that should have been awkward, but it wasn't. All things considered, it was nearly companionable. They were in a tricky spot but they both wanted the same thing, and had just almost been blown up together. That kind of thing tends to lend itself to rapid resolution of animosity, and they knew that.

They sat together, sipping tea for a while before Shacklebolt found them. "We have him. He's in room 6," the old wizard pronounced. "He's...he's not well, mentally. Looks like a trainwreck. I'm curious how long he's been declining this way."

"What are you talking about? That's bullshit, Sir. I saw him in a market less than a week ago and he was totally sound. I mean...clearly he's a sociopath, but he was well-kept, carrying on routine conversations with his wife in public. I'd wager he's putting on because he knows he's toast," Lyra interjected.

"If anyone can get him to show his true colors, it'd likely be me. If I was a corpse in the street, he'd go out of his way to kick my teeth in," Harry said plainly, as if simply stating a known fact.

"Well, he's ready. So, let's get on with it, shall we?' Shacklebolt held his arm out directing them to the corridor containing the interrogation rooms.

Harry and Lyra walked down the hallway together behind Shacklebolt. They stopped outside of the door and she turned to Harry. "Get him to brake character. Not too fast. I'm going to run and grab something from artifacts real quick but then I'll be watching. Pound the table once when you want be to come in and back you. Do not let him goad you, Harry. We got him. Hard part's over, right?" She smiled sardonically at him, before clapping him on the back and disappearing down the hall towards the artifact room.

"You're sure you can do this, Harry?" Shacklebolt inquired seriously.

Harry stared hard at the door for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah I think I can," he stated simply and opened the door, stepping inside.


	11. Chapter 11

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Wednesday Morning, continued**

Harry stepped in to the small interrogation room, shutting the door behind him. Lucius Malfoy sat restrained in a spartan metal chair on the far side of the table. He didn't look up when Harry entered the room, in favor of staring at an arbitrary point at the table, muttering something about Babbity Rabbity and tiny cups. His white hair was scraggly, his skin dirty and streaked with sweat. Harry recalled a memory of him looking similar as he fled the Battle of Hogwarts with his family. He shook the picture from his mind and set himself to the task before him.

Harry took a seat across from him and regarded him critically. If Lyra was correct, which he believed she was, then this was a facade. All he had to do is crack the shell.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Silence.

"Mr. Malfoy. My name is Harry Potter, I'm an Auror. Do you know where you are?"

Harry saw a flash of something cross the old man's eyes. _Rage? Satisfaction?_ He couldn't be sure.

"I...I am at home? You must be my brother. I wonder if Mother has biscuits. I bet she does." Mr. Malfoy spoke in a croaky, thin voice.

"No, Sir. I'm an Auror and you're inside the Ministry of Magic," Harry corrected firmly without emotion. "It sounds like you've lost your voice? Care to tell me what happened?"

"Well I lost it in the boat races, you see." Lucius remarked, rocking slightly in his chair.

"Do you know where your son is?"

"I have a son?" the old man questioned, plastering an aloof grin on his aristocratic face.

"Well, probably not after tonight," Harry fired.

Lucius narrowed his eyes for a moment before schooling his face into an innocent pout. "That's sad. What will Mother say?"

"An excellent question, Mr. Malfoy. Actually, speaking of mothers...Do you have any idea where your wife is?" Harry asked.

Silence again, but Harry saw the real man under the act. He'd hit a nerve. He could feel it. _Keep chipping._

"So, we know your son is disposable to you, you've made that quite clear a number of times over the years, but I wonder...is she as well? Surely you must know that, at this point, after so many years of betrayals and disappointments, she would push you into a dragon's nest to save her son. I can make reference to her devotion with some confidence, I feel, as I've witnessed it firsthand."

Lucius's response to this line of questioning was to raise his roped wrists to his mouth and begin to chew on his bonds while humming a Christmas tune.

"You know I saw her yesterday. She flagged me down in the main hall here. Asked after my wife," Harry paused and noticed a slight uptick in the old man's rate of breath. "She asked me for help, you see. Said she was worried about Draco. She said she needed help from someone her husband couldn't buy, you know like like Julian Diamond, and she thought of me. She offered me money and everything, can you believe it?! She came to me, of all people, to help find your ugly weasel of a sprog," Harry laughed. "She's a sweet little woman, naive, but sweet. If you're in to that sort of thing," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

Lucius started banging his bound wrists on the table, singing "Good King Wenceclas" as loud as his ruined voice would allow.

Harry had an idea.

"Mr. Malfoy, stop that now," Harry said gently. He needed to get Lyra in the room, but a lot of his great idea hinged on her basically just going with it and doing whatever he said, which wasn't exactly her forte. _Sod it..._

"STOP IT!" Harry roared, slamming his fist down on the table between them. Lucius gave a genuine start before adapting a goofy smile and asking Harry if he had any magenta daffodils.

Lyra entered the room then, looking to Harry for instruction, using all of her composure to avoid looking puzzled. _This isn't good enough, what are you doing?_

"Auror Black, I...forgive me," Harry said, feigning contrition. "Just give me a few more moments with him, I...I have to know."

Lyra elected not to speak, but instead crossed her arms over her chest and gave an authoritative nod of her head, hopefully giving Harry what he was looking for.

"Sweet Merlin, aren't you a beautiful creature!" Lucius exclaimed. Lyra raised an annoyed eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Harry.

Harry slumped his shoulders and hung his head low over the table. "Mr. Malfoy, you won. At least with me you did. I just want to know why? Why my Ginny? And my son, James? He was only 6. Why not just have me killed and be done with it? You sent your son to kill them and he did. You owe me a reason." With that Harry burst into tears, thick, full sobs wracking his body.

Lyra went to him at once, catching on. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders and bent down to whisper soft reassurances to him, shedding a sad tear of her own at the thought. _Damn Harry, you're a savage..._

An amused chuckle rose from the opposite end of the table. Harry and Lyra looked up at Malfoy to see him looking across the table at them, clear eyed and full of joy. His laugh increased in mirth until he was positively shaking with the thrill of it.

"That's extraordinary! It's even better than I could have imagined! My idiot son and your mousy, useless little bitch. It's...it's glorious," He bit out between laughs.

"Whoa-kay, Harry. Is that good? You mind? I mean, it's just we don't have a lot of time before he starts singing White Christmas" Lyra spoke plainly, in a cool, almost bored tone while she fixed her eyes murderously on the cackling man.

Lucius stopped laughing immediately at that and stared at them.

"Oh, by all means. That would be great," her friend replied sweetly, his tears gone.

Lyra snapped like a whip. Her movement generated a wind that ruffled Harry's dark hair as she whipped her wand out and spelled the bastard across the table. _Holy shit_ , he thought. _That is positively terrifying_.

"LEGILIMENS-"

 _Oh bloody hell._

After his internal ourburst, what Lyra met first in his mind was a wall. A great iron wall followed by another and another. Turns out, Lucius Malfoy was a damn good Occlemens. _Oh yay! It's been so long since I've had a challenge_ , she thought before getting to work. She layered in tributaries of pathways under, over and through all of his defenses, to uncover his memories. Uncovered, she saw a shriveled misanthrope who tortured his son and had the most pathetic sense of entitlement she had ever encountered. To his wife, to the government, even to the lives of other human beings. If something didn't meet his expectations, if it threatened his ego, if it bored him, he would simply crush it to dust and move on to something more worthy of his time. He was also, unfortunately, a genius...which was going to make her job a lot harder.

Being inside his mind was like swimming in acid, like running in smog. The entire ambiance of his being was caustic, toxic...poisonous. She needed to get what she came for, get out and never EVER come back. She muscled her way through one of his iron barricades to find a memory of him in his study, boredly flipping through a book of Finnish Runes, an original copy from the family archives. He stumbled upon a curse. An exhausting and intense curse, but one that intrigued him. With it, you could compel someone to kill whomever it was in all the world that they loved the most. It was absolute cruelty. It could be modified to induce mania, obsession and even sadism in the cursed. It contained a provision that enabled the wizard to cast a temporary blind by incantation over burning wormwood and arctic moss that would protect a person from being the target of the person cursed, who would simply move on to another loved one. It had given him an interesting idea, one that sated his intellect, served his vanity and could potentially help him regain some authority.

Lucius had been powerless for too long. He'd kept his head down for too long, and what did he get for all of his forced humility? He got snubbed at parties, abandoned by all of his 'friends' and had only his daft wife and useless son to talk to. His debutante whore of a daughter-in-law distrusted him immediately and did whatever she could to keep him from his only grandchild. The child should be educated. Brought up with the right traditions. Molded in to a leader. Into a real Malfoy. At the rate his idiot mother was going, the poor wretch was likely to be a Hufflepuff. Not while he lived.

From what he could tell, based on the uptick in his son's drinking and drug use, Draco was broken-hearted over his divorce. He knew his son to be a romantic and sentimental fool and figured that he missed his wife. His daughter-in-law's parents had both died in a private plane accident some years prior. If he could cast the compulsion over Draco, and a blind over Scorpius...Draco would kill is ex-wife, Lucius would simply ensure his capture, and he and Narcissa could get custody of their grandson and raise the boy properly.

She watched him cast the curse, adding as much mania and obsession as he could. It would leave a trail of evidence, he thought. She saw him waiting for news of Astoria Nott's death. Getting impatient. Realizing Draco was pursuing someone else. It mattered little to him, if he killed another. He could always find a different way to dispatch Scorpius's mother after Draco was in Azkaban. He thought it best not to interfere with Draco's task. The curse itself was irreversible. Draco would pursue his target until he killed her or died himself. It was just a trifling detour.

The blind had to be recast precisely on a weekly basis by him alone, to keep Draco from coming after his own son. _Thursday_ , Lyra answered for herself, recalling when she read him at the market. _Wait a minute...shit...that's tomorrow..._

Lyra was beginning to falter. She was exhausted from breaking though his occlemency and felt ill from the exposure to such vile hate. She could feel the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She was going to pass out.

She pulled out of his mind and took several shaky steps backward until her back made contact with the wall of the little room. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, shaking.

Harry was by her side instantly, putting a cool hand to her flushed face.

"Auror Shacklebolt!" Lyra called out to the Head Auror she knew was watching the whole scene unfold, "I someone to bring me a vial. Right now."

Harry looked back to Lucius Malfoy who had passed out, seemingly braking his nose faceplanting on the hard metal table.

A moment later, Colin entered with a small glass vial and placed it Lyra's shaking hands.

She drew several stuttering breaths before raising her wand once again and put it to her own temple. She muttered an incantation and twisted the wand between her fingers, pulling a silver strand of memory out of her mind and depositing it in to the vial. She looked up at Colin and put the vial back in his hand. "Give it to him."

As the young man rushed from the room, she looked over at Harry. "We need to bring Astoria Nott and her son here now. If I can't get this asshole to block the kid by Thursday night, Draco's going to go after him."

"What are you on about?" Harry said, furrowing his brow.

"I'll explain in a minute. I need a little one on one with him," she said gesturing at Lucius who was groaning now and struggling to sit up.

Harry started to protest, but Lyra shut him down. "Go get Nott and the kid. On your way out, have Colin get me a glass of water and a wet cloth."

"Blimey, you're a bossy thing," he said, pulling her to her feet and helping her to the chair.

"That is true," she huffed, tiredly,

"You sure you're alright?"

"Ohmigod Harry, go. You're offending my groove."

He made an annoyed face at her before exiting quickly from the room.

Lyra looked across at Lucius Malfoy. He had fresh blood running out of his now crooked nose and was wavering in his seat as if he was going to lose consciousness again.

"Hang on," Lyra said raising her wand to his face. Lucius flinched and whimpered in anticipation. "Episkey-"

His nose twisted back to center with an appalling crack. "Agh. You bitch!" He moaned.

"You're welcome," she countered flatly.

Colin entered again with what she'd requested. She grabbed the items and put them down in front of Malfoy. She aimed her wand at his restraints and muttered a spell that caused the ropes to fall to the floor. The man flexed his wrists before reaching for the cloth to clean the blood from his face.

"So, you're the soft-paw, then?" He inquired.

"You mean like the good cop? Oh hell no. Harry was the good cop. I am something else entirely," she countered.

"Hmmm...an idiot American slut who's about to be litigated to within an inch of her life?"

"Ha! You are too much fun! I've been inside your head. I know you're not that stupid. I'm only sitting here looking at your sorry inbred face because I have an offer for you."

"Speak," he commanded.

"Recast the blind on your grandson until we can apprehend Draco."

"Why? It hardly matters. Draco killed Potter's little bitch and one of her pups for good measure. It's done. He'll wake up with a bad headache and not remember a thing."

"Just do it and I'll make a half-assed attempt at having your sentence reduced," she said evenly...maybe a little too evenly.

He noticed. He was a genius, after all. _An evil fucking genius_. She thought before he began..."You lying little trollop. She's not dead, she's probably lying on her back right now under that sniveling, self-righteous...

"And I'm gonna stop you right there, you unbelievable pig," she said waving a hand at him dismissively.

"WHO IS IT?" he roared at her.

"If I tell you, will you cast the blind?"

"No."

"If you don't do this, your grandson might be killed and you will have effectively forced your son to do it."

Lucius shrugged.

"Why? I just read your memories. You have big plans for that kid, right?"

"Plans change."

"What about your wife?"

"Potter was right. She chose her side years ago. She chose that boy," he said with a genuine look of disgust.

"That boy is your son, you asshole! Christ, you are insane. I'd rather you go back to the Christmas carols," she countered, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"Just kill him, then. He's been nothing but a disappointment to me his whole life..."

Lyra (re)broke his nose with her fist.

"You fucking bitch!" he lunged at her from across the table causing her to stupefy him against the wall. He was gasping for breath around the torrents of fresh blood pouring out of his nose.

Lyra stood above him, wand at the ready. With her freehand she unbuttoned her black blazer, revealing the glittering Quatrefoil that Draco had given her (in his insanity...but Lucius didn't need to know that).

The old wizard's eyes zeroed in on it and he snarled. "Where did you get that, you cow?"

"Now, now Dad! Is that any way to talk to your future daughter-in-law? I'm a quarter muggle-blood at a minimum, I'm adopted you see, so I actually have no idea," she giggled lightly. "That...that's not gonna be a problem at family dinners is it?"

The bleeding man spat blood and chuckled. "He's going to kill you. I can't wait."

Lyra approached, looking down at him with contempt and whispered, just for the two of them. "No, you filthy coward. We're going to walk over your grave hand in hand and forget you. Lucky for Draco, he has excellent taste. I do this shit everyday and I am going put you in a hole with a smile on my face."

The door burst open behind her, ushering in Zabini and Rossman who looked from her to Malfoy in concern.

She looked back to them and rolled her eyes. "I'm done, I'm done. Lot of emotion in this room, you know? It got the best of me. Hot-blooded American. My bad. Here, you poor helpless thing, let me fix it...Episkey-!"

"Ow! You vile dirty-blooded slag, I'll have you killed in your sleep..."

"Hey you two want coffee?" she asked the 2 Aurors sweetly before exiting the room, leaving Malfoy bleeding on the floor.

* * *

Hey friends! So I just wrote the climax for this arc of the story and it. is. intense. We've got a little bit of stage-setting ahead before it happens, so bear with me. Thank you to Shell8bee for your kind reviews. I think it's about to get (in my biased opinion) pretty damn interesting. Please keep reading and reviewing! I am open to all matter of sinful suggestions. Thanks! -MM


	12. Chapter 12

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Wednesday Morning, continued ad infinitum.**

Lyra secluded herself in the tiny equipment room with her coffee, mulling over the events of the day...the endless day...the horrible day that just wouldn't die. She left it to Shacklebolt to brief everybody on the new developments in the case and the trap she was currently living in. She rubbed her eyes in exhaustion and wondered when Harry would return with Astoria and the kid. She owed them some information and then had to get them far the hell away from her as possible. Her stomach clenched in worry. There was essentially an entire family at stake here, not to mention Draco himself. She felt the gravity of it, the responsibility of it, pressing on her and she wished she could just disappear.

As she was preparing to launch in to Act II of her pity party, Harry walked in. "They're here. They're scared as hell, but they're safe. Narcissa Malfoy was with them."

Lyra exhaled in relief. "Good. I need to talk to them...eventually." She was not looking forward to that conversation.

"WE need to talk. Shacklebolt filled me in.".

She looked at him sadly. "So I kill him, or he kills me, or the blinding cast on the kid expires and Draco comes after his own son...and we have to kill him to stop him, obviously. That's what I got."

Harry said nothing.

"Harry you're holding your breath."

He exhaled.

"So you help kill him or you die for him," he said.

"Or I die for his son," she pointed out.

"Semantics. You die," he protested.

"I should never have come here," she mused to the ether.

"Don't be dramatic."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. You're right. I'm facing several possible futures where I'm dead. I understand that's something you have some practice in, but for me it's a bit new."

"Well, technically you're dead in all possible futures...I mean long term. Me too," he said, trying to make her laugh.

"Harry. I will slap you in the mouth, I swear to god." She said without humor.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Save them both. Stay alive. Live forever, just to spite you," she quipped with a raised eyebrow.

Harry huffed a laugh. "Do I get an opinion?"

"Have I ever denied you anything, darling?"

"Kill him."

"Absolutely not," she fired.

"Can I kill him?" he asked cheerily.

"No. Harry, Help me. If anyone knows how to find a loophole in seemingly inescapable death, it's you, right?"

Harry furrowed his brow at her. "Look, it's complicated in my case. The first time I 'lived' it was because my mother had just sacrificed her life for mine. The second time, I'm not actually even sure. The wand Voldemort had at the time was hugely powerful but it wasn't answering to him. That particular wand would only answer to the person who had disarmed the last owner. That hadn't been Voldemort, so the wand wasn't really his. I think he couldn't kill me for good that night because the wand didn't want to kill me. Is that crazy?"

"Was it Hawthorne?" She asked.

"What?"

"The wand. Was it Hawthorne?"

"Er...elder, actually. I hardly see why that matters."

She nodded knowingly. "Elder. It's temperamental. Makes a wand that always seeks a better owner. The kind that would throw you under the bus to seek a source of greater talent. Let me ask you this, Auror, what's the crux of casting the killing curse, or any Unforgivable?"

"Intent. You have to mean it."

"Right. Well, so does the wand, in a sense. It has to be a willing conduit for the spell."

"You're in to wandlore?"

"I'm in to stalling," she said with a sad smile.

"My wand, it's Hawthorne. What does that mean?"

"Hawthorne. Emotional wood. Needs to believe in the wizard who wields it. What's the core?" she asked.

"Uh...unicorn hair."

"Ah. Faithful. Long memory. I would not have guessed that for you. Shows what I know," she said looking off into the distance.

"We need a plan," he said, bringing the stalling to an end.

Lyra sighed hard, shaking her head. "I don't know. Catch him first. Contain him. Get the biggest pulsating brains in the Ministry to try and break the curse. Win. Shove it in Lucius Malfoy's evil fucking face," she mused.

"Ok. We catch him. How?"

"With delicious, irresistible Lyra bait. And we do it fast." she said, resigned.

"Uh, no."

"Uh, Yes. It's the only thing that's going to draw him out. Other than his overtures towards me, he's been a ghost. What other option do we have?" she countered.

"We have Scorpius Malfoy. He's at the center of a sodding fortress here, protected by an army of Aurors. Why can't we take our time to plan? Let the blind expire and let Draco come to us?"

Lyra cuffed his ear in time to her words. "He. Is. A. Baby. We are not using baby-bait. You. Are. Awful."

"Ow. Gods, you're bloody mad!"

"I'm mad! Baby-bait, Potter. I will NEVER forget you said it."

"Alright, fine," he acquiesced.

"We let him chase me out of London. Leave the kid and the ex here, under high security. I run to some place private. Secluded. We bring a team. We catch him and we box him. We reassess after that."

"If it comes down to combat?" Harry inquired.

"Then I beat his ass and then we catch him and box him."

"And if it gets really bad?"

"Fuck, Harry, yes. Then I kill him. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Yes it is! I am not having you die because of...

"Harry. That...it's not going to come to that, ok?"

He said nothing.

She walked over to him and gave him a good hugging. She was a hugger. Everybody else would just have to adjust. Harry did fine. He hugged her tightly for an appropriately English amount of time before releasing her.

"Right," he said with a blush on his face. "I'll take you to see everybody."

"Did Shacklebolt talk to them yet?" She asked.

"He did. Filled them in on the spell, the blind over the boy. He left out your part, though. He thought you should take them through it. If you're going to risk your life for that kid, you should be the one to tell his mother," Harry explained.

"Yeah, for some reason, that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better." She paused, considering something. "Do you know her? Astoria Nott. Is she approachable? Does she have a mean uppercut that I should know about?" She inquired.

"They're divorced. I hardly see why it would matter," Harry quipped.

"Good lord, you are dense, Potter. Thank Merlin you let Ginny call the shots," she replied.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes at her. "I knew her sister, Daphne. She was a Slytherin. Pretty. Polite. Kept her head down."

"Ugh. I've had just about enough Slytherins for a lifetime, to be honest," she griped.

"Hey now, your father was a Slytherin. I was almost a Slytherin," Harry replied.

"You know, I would not have believed that possible until today. That stunt you pulled with Lucius Malfoy. That was pure evil genius," she grinned at him.

"Praise indeed, coming from you. You're the one who punched him in the face," he quipped back, ushering them out of the room.

* * *

Harry led Lyra to a secluded room in the back of the department that was typically unused. When they entered they saw that Colin and several other staff members were setting up cots, and bringing in blankets and food. Lyra's eyes zeroed in on Narcissa Malfoy in a far corner talking anxiously to a short blonde witch and a large brunette wizard that she recognized easily as Astoria Nott and her new husband.

Her gaze trailed slightly over to the left to see a little boy playing quietly by himself in a chair. He had his father's shock-white hair and proud features, but with rich green eyes that he had to have inherited from his mother. He was talking softly to himself and flying a smoking toy train around in tiny circles.

"Miss Black!"

Lyra looked up to see Mrs. Malfoy heading towards her with her former daughter-in-law and the large wizard in tow.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine," the elegant woman dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Kingsley said you had more information. Did you see Draco? What's next? You have to help him, you have to stop this curse. I don't understand how this is happening..." she continued babbling, frantically.

Lyra swallowed nervously, and locked her hazel eyes briefly to the vibrant greens of Draco's ex-wife, who was giving up nothing. _Damn._ "Let's sit down, shall we?" Lyra said, addressing them all and motioning towards a disused sofa and chairs in the back of the large room. "Colin, would you mind watching young Mr. Malfoy there a moment while I talk to his family?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied walking over to the child who eyed him shyly.

The newlyweds installed themselves on the couch and Mrs. Malfoy lowered herself regally into a shabby armchair. Lyra stood in front of them struggling to find the appropriate words for this conversation. _Hey, so your son, your ex is stalking me and, barring an act of curse-breaking innovation in the realm of ancient Finnish runes, only my death or his death will prevent harm to your grandchild/child._

"Uh...I..." she bumbled.

"Where did you get that?" Narcissa inquired, her tone flat.

"What?" Lyra asked, confused.

"The necklace you're wearing," she said icily, nodding to the Quatrefoil hanging on her chest.

"Oh, it's not what you think. I was wearing it in the interrogation room to annoy your husband."

The older woman's lips quirked. "Did it work?"

"It sure did," Lyra answered.

"You didn't answer the question, Auror," Astoria Nott interjected from the couch.

"No, I didn't." Lyra drew a deep breath. "I don't know exactly how Auror Shacklebolt explained the situation to you all, but you know that Draco's been cursed to kill someone he...cares for a lot. Well, clearly, as I'm sure you will agree, the person he cares for the most would be your grandson." She paused a moment before continuing. "Until tomorrow night, the boy's protected with a blinding cast making him ineligible to be tracked by Draco. Since this cast has been blinding Scorpius to Draco, Draco moved on to the next person down the list, so to speak." Lyra looked up at the ceiling then lowered her voice to afford them some privacy. "Lucius thought that he would move on to you, Mrs. Nott. He...he was planning to use Draco to kill you, then turn him in for your murder and petition the courts for custody of your son."

Lyra looked down at the blonde witch on the couch. She was in shock. Silent tears rolling down her pretty face.

"But he didn't," Narcissa chimed in.

"Excuse me?" Lyra asked.

"Draco. He didn't go after Astoria."

"No, ma'am." Lyra paused nervously. "He went after me. I'm not just here on an exchange. I'm here for this particular case because the target is me."

"That's absurd. You don't know us. You're not even from here!" Astoria shouted through her tears.

 _And there it is_ , Lyra thought to herself.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? This is absurd." The blonde witch continued.

"Astoria, stop," Narcissa instructed. "Speak," she directed at Lyra.

"He's been stalking me for a month. In New York and now here." She picked the pendant up off her chest. "He sent this to me yesterday. I...I know what it means. I figured it would be a good way to get a rise out of his father." she said regarding it warily before letting it drop back down. "I've been staying with the Potters and Draco attacked us there early this morning, right after I got your owl. He blew the front door off Harry's house trying to find me." She paused to look over at Scorpius, who was talking to Colin and showing off his train. "Harry has 2 little kids who were both there when it happened."

Astoria broke out in to full sobs and threw herself in to her husband's arms. Lyra crossed her arms over her chest.

"Look, I understand the uncomfortable position that this puts all of us in but this is bigger than petty mistrust and suspicion," Lyra said, suddenly feeling defensive. Maybe a bit irrationally so. "The facts are that we have to do something before midnight tomorrow or your son will be in danger. Now I, for one, refuse to let that happen. I am willing to risk my own life in the process and not just because your cursed Ex was my friend for years, but because it's my job. Because THAT is who the fuck I think I am." Lyra breathed in a shaky breath to calm her anger. _God, I need to sleep_ , she thought. _Apologize, you jerk..._

Lyra let the woman's sobs quiet to soft hiccups before speaking _._ "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-" She began, running a tired hand across her face.

"I didn't know." Astoria said sadly pulling her head off of her husband's chest and sniffling. "It's a terribly stupid thing to be territorial over, you know? I mean, I'm quite sorry for you and all that..."

"I get it. Believe me, you don't want this." Lyra said tightly. "You are right though."

"Right?" the blonde witch asked, dabbing her wet eyes.

"This is absolutely fucking absurd."

The woman gave a sad laugh. "So what are you going to do? How are you going to protect my son?"

Lyra sighed seriously. "I think you and your family need to stay here. This building is secure and you'll be surrounded by Aurors ready to protect you. I'm going to get Draco to chase me out of London, far away from Scorpius. We'll put a team in place, draw him out somewhere secluded and capture him. From there, I honestly don't know. We'll have to essentially find a way to break a thousand year old curse that was designed specifically to be absolute and unending."

"What if you can't catch him?" Astoria's silent husband spoke.

She gave him a level stare and looked over at Mrs. Malfoy. Lyra owed her the courtesy of an honest answer and a look in the eyes. "If I can't contain him and he comes after the kid, I can't promise we won't be forced to escalate."

Narcissa widened her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy but think. It's what Draco would want done. What would you want if someone cursed you to kill him? Now, I don't know you all that well, but I have a feeling you would want someone to stop you at any cost."

Narcissa dropped a few silent tears down her pale cheeks and shook her head but said nothing, looking forlornly over at her grandson.

"It's my sincere belief that we can catch him. I would never hurt him unless I had no choice. Please believe me," she added.

"Where are you going to go?" Narcissa inquired, changing the subject.

"I don't know. Someplace big enough to fit a team. Big enough to fight. To run. I was thinking Hogwarts, but it's too crowded. It needs to be isolated," Lyra replied.

"The Manor." Narcissa stated plainly.

"What?"

"It meets all of your requirements. Plus, I know it inside and out, and you leading him there will give him a false impression that he has the advantage," she explained.

"Wait. Are you really willing to let me and Draco shoot flaming hexes at each other all over the inside of your mansion?" Lyra asked.

"I think it would improve the space, actually. Like modern art," she dismissed easily.

"Hmm. That could work," Lyra replied honestly, raising her eyebrows. "Let me talk it over with the Aurors and I will get back to you. Now please, get some food and rest."

And with that, she walked out in search of a bench or deserted couch to nap on. _Immediately. Worst. Day. Ever._ She thought to herself. _I will never get the awkward washed off my skin..._

* * *

Author's Note - Trying to push through some setup chapters quickly to get to...showtime. Bear with me, the dynamite goes boom in just a few... -MM


	13. Chapter 13

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Wednesday**

After a quick catnap on the floor in Harry's office, Lyra asked him to assemble the team in a briefing room. She wanted to run the idea of the Manor by them and start brainstorming ideas for their operation.

"Hell no," were the first words out of Harry's mouth after she made the pitch.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well, for starters, I was imprisoned there once before and I don't want to go back, but more importantly, that is his home. His territory. You could well be playing into his hands," Harry explained.

"His mother thinks that doing it there will give him a false sense of security and work against him in the long run if we do it right. I'm inclined to agree with her," she replied. "He's a cunning man and he likes to win. It's a viable strategy to give him the illusion of an advantage to put him at ease before springing a trap. Plus, it has all the things we need. Space, seclusion and, most importantly, it's far away from here, where Scorpius will be."

"Right, I will give you that Draco Malfoy is a cunning man who likes to win, but how can we say who he is under the compulsion? I mean, you heard him last night, Lyra. He was a raving maniac who blew up my damn house!"

"Ok that's...a point, I suppose," she admitted.

"So, Zabini and I actually have a theory about that," Rossman interjected.

"Let's have it then," Harry said.

"So, we haven't found the exact one but, in some of these old Scandinavian compulsion curses, you can refresh the curse or augment it to make the victim pursue the target harder. Like it spurs a form of temporary rage or mania. Based on what Lyra heard from those little Muggle machines in the manor, coupled with Draco's attack at your house, it seems plausible that that's what happened." Rossman explained.

"OK but how does that affect us going forward?" She asked.

"Well, like she said, it's temporary," Zabini offered.

"Ok, but he's being compelled to stalk and kill me. I mean, it seems that there would be some insanity or mania involved regardless," she replied.

"Well, not entirely. It's compulsion, not psychosis. Think about Imperious. You're still you, you just have parameters put on you by another person to achieve their goal. That's kind of what makes it so insidious. It doesn't take from you, it just adds to you. Alters your reality just enough to do whatever..." he added.

"Zabini. Too meta. Plain speak," she quipped.

"Well doll, to make it easy for you, I think you're right. I think you can treat Draco more or less like Draco. Beat him at this the same way you would at anything else."

She looked at Harry who was worrying his thumbnail with his teeth.

"What do you think, boss?" she asked.

"I dunno," he replied.

She turned to the rest of the room. "Help me. What am I missing. Why not there?"

"Dark magic wards?" Gold offered.

"Yep. That's a good one."

"Probable secret torture dungeon?" Zabini said with a wink.

"Ew. But also...would not be surprised," Lyra clipped back.

"It's dark, drafty, cold and I hate it," Harry supplied.

"Ok, any more reasons that are not whiny?" Lyra asked the room, pausing for suggestions. "Gold. The wards. That we should address. Fortunately, we have Narcissa Malfoy with us who can probably help in that regard. You should go sweet talk her, she'll likely be a divorcee soon," Lyra crooned at him.

The graying Scot wasted no in jumping up from his seat and making for the door. He was halfway out when Lyra called after him, "Change your tie, Pipperin! That one's terrible!"

"Wait. So we're doing it?" She asked, looking at Harry.

The wizard rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Fine. If I get sick from the cold there, I'm going to spit in your coffee for a week."

"You are gross and I hate you," she said.

"Bullshit," he replied.

"Yeah, so what?"

"So when you talk, Lyra, does it make sense to you? That is all I'm asking," he mocked.

"I see what you did there," she replied, narrowing her eyes.

He smiled at her.

They began going over their plan, though it likely wouldn't crystallize until they were physically inside the manor and could get a feel for the layout. They talked through their staging, zoning and communication. Lyra had the idea to give everyone the little radio earpieces that Patrick had sent in her box from New York. They were inconspicuous and no-maj, meaning Draco wouldn't recognize one if you shoved it up his nose. Speaking of Draco, she needed a subtle way for him to know where she was going. That was proving a challenge. Suggestions ranged from 'walk up to him and tell him' courtesy of Simpkins, to 'hop on a broom in a short skirt and let male hormones take it from there' from the ever-predictable Zabini.

At that moment Gold reentered with Mrs. Malfoy, who looked tired but motivated. "Auror Gold has told me that you need some help with my wards and I will gladly give it on one condition," she said to the room.

"Which is?" Harry asked.

"I'm coming with you."

"No," Lyra replied immediately. "Too much emotional investment."

"That's unfair! You're practically leading this operation and you are literally the person being targeted!" Narcissa countered. It was a good point. _Smart broad_ , Lyra thought before the woman continued, "Not to mention that you have no right whatsoever keeping me from my own home."

"Well, since it's a crime scene, we do," Harry replied.

"I can help. You'll need me show you the layout. Hidden passages. Secret rooms. Draco will know them. If you want to catch him, you'll need what I know," the blonde witch persisted.

Lyra rolled her eyes but then looked over to Rossman and Zabini before saying "Beat him at this the same way you would beat him at anything else?" She paused to grit her teeth. She hated the idea, but it made sense. "I don't like it, but she's an asset. The call is yours, Harry. I'll live either way."

"Alright, she comes," Harry said begrudgingly. He pinned Mrs. Malfoy with a hard stare. "You do as we say at all times. You do not deviate from our plan in any way and you will stay with Gold unless you are physically using the loo. Deal?"

"Yes," she replied, sweetly.

"Ok, now. Back to it. We need a way to communicate to Draco that I'm going to be at the Manor. Something subtle."

"A fight," Narcissa offered, as if it were obvious.

"What?"

"An argument between you two." She explained, motioning between Lyra and Harry. "Make it appear like you're throwing her our of your home. It wouldn't be unreasonable, considering what happened."

"Ok, that provides a step one, but how do we get from their to the manor?" Lyra inquired.

"Well, I'll abduct you, of course."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll abduct you." She said slowly, as if trying to explain something to a child. "I'm Narcissa Malfoy, the wife of a soulless Death Eater whose only redeeming quality is my love for my son," she said dramatically, putting her hand over her heart. "I haven't seen him in ages, you see, and I would do anything to get him back," she spoke in a false whimper.

"You are terrifying," Simpkins said from the back.

She smiled sweetly.

"I said subtle, Mrs. Malfoy," Lyra interrupted.

"Sweetheart, for a Malfoy that is subtle," Narcissa replied, looking around the room for confirmation. "I ensure you that it would not surprise Draco in the least to discover that I'd been tracking him, trying to discover why he hasn't been visiting or returning my owls, and _viola!_ I found you."

"Have you been tracking him?" Harry asked.

"Well, obviously I've been trying, but my men haven't been able to trace him. Their best guess put him in Muggle Scotland and that was well over a week ago," she replied in exasperation.

"Jesus. You ARE terrifying," Lyra said with her eyebrows raised in awe.

"What? My plan achieves 2 goals. It makes you appear isolated and it gets you to where you need to be."

"Slytherclaw," Lyra smiled.

"What?" The blonde woman questioned.

"That old hat should have made a new house just for you."

Narcissa thought about it for a moment before breaking in to a proud grin. "Well, I did warn you."

"You did," she replied.

"Logistically, the team could floo in from here and Harry from home. The boy would have no idea," Gold offered. "It's not a bad approach."

"So wait. Who exactly is kidnapping me? I'm so confused." Lyra interjected.

"I am. That is to say, Auror Gold and I are," Narcissa replied.

"How?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, it would be best to let it surprise you and unfold organically," Gold added, looking...guilty?

"Uhhh...wait a damn minute." She paused, tapping her foot anxiously on the floor, deep in thought. "No gag and I'm gonna fight you," Lyra pointed her finger in his face.

"Lass, I would be disappointed if you didn't," he quipped back.

Harry chimed in then, "Right, so I think it would be wise to have everyone save Lyra and myself head to the manor now to get a feel for the place. Mrs. Malfoy, you go with the team initially and disable your wards please, then take Gold and double back down for Lyra." He turned to his friend. "Lyra, where will they find you?"

"I'll head to Heathrow, via Diagon alley. I feel like that's the most appropriate. Does that work?" She asked, looking at Narcissa and Gold.

"Works for me," Gold answered.

"Ok, Harry. You and I have to go home and break up," Lyra spoke at the dark haired wizard.

"Lovely," he replied without humor.

* * *

 **Heathrow** \- Large airport serving London

 **Author's Note** \- Hey hey! I am trying to push out these build up chapters ahead of schedule, so we can get down to business. Please review if I glaze over anything important. Thanks for reading and mad love to Marloweee1856 for the lovely review. Lyra is my spirit animal as well. She may be my patronus too. I dunno. It's either her or a panda bear.  
-MM


	14. Chapter 14

**October 2008** **Wizarding London, England** **Grimmauld Place** **Wednesday**

"YOU ENDANGERED MY FAMILY!" Harry roared.

"THAT IS SUCH BULLSHIT, HARRY! HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT HE WAS GOING TO DO?" She shouted back.

"It's you he wants. Not me. Not my family. You."

"So you're going to kick me off in to the street so he can grab me?" She looked at him incredulously. "I'm sorry. For a minute, I thought you were an Auror. I thought you were supposed to help people!" She fired back, acid in her voice.

"I am. But you and your heart-sick little ferret are NOT my problem. I will not have my family threatened because of some pratty little rich boy who never matured past his second year!" Harry had to admit to himself, he enjoyed that one.

Lyra paced rapidly back and forth through the sitting room with it's high windows. _Ok, uh...call him a coward and and wave your arms a bit_ , she coached herself.

"How is it possible that the great Harry Potter is such a FUCKING COWARD!" She bellowed, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'd rather one nobody witch from America think me a coward than orphan my own children," he said softly.

Lyra paused. She was suddenly worried that they were about to start having a real conversation. _Abort, abooooort_ , she thought.

"I want you out," he said, pointing out towards the street. "Now." and then he stormed out of the room.

Lyra watched him go then looking sadly after him before walking over to the writing desk that contained her bag of toiletries and the Quatrefoil necklace which she had removed prior to her war of words with Harry. She returned the item to it's little box and plunked both box and bag unceremoniously inside her suitcase before latching it shut. She used the bathroom and then trudged slowly down the stairs. She walked up to the front door, which had been replaced in the early hours of the morning by a Ministry clean up team, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

It was late afternoon and the streets were busy with people coming home from work. She wandered to Diagon Alley on foot and got comfortably lost in the crowd. She could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck and wasn't sure if it was because she was waiting for Gold to jump her or because she knew Draco was watching her. He was. She could feel him. It was going to work.

She tucked herself into a pub for a quick bite, keeping a look of perpetual wariness on her face, before taking the plunge and using the Leaky Cauldron to exit out in to Muggle London. She walked several blocks over to the high street with the intention of hailing a cab to the airport. _I wonder if they are going to wait until I get there_ , she thought. She had kind of hoped to be done and kidnapped by now. The anticipation was driving her nuts. _What a weird thing to think..._

She was standing on the curb with her hand in the air for a car when she felt the blunt stab of a wand in her lower back. She gasped and lowered her arm slowly. "Took you long enough," she murmured, allowing her face to telegraph the appropriate shock and worry.

"Petrificus totalis-" she heard him say in a Scottish burr _Oh come on, man..._

Lyra went rigid and she felt Gold's hands come around her waist to keep her upright. To passerby they probably just looked like a very mismatched couple. Lyra took tight little panting breaths, the inflexibility in her diaphragm allowing for little else. She allowed her eyes to go wide with fear. A black limousine pulled up to the curb in front of them and the rear door opened automatically, revealing an impeccably dressed, relaxed looking Narcissa Malfoy, complete with devious black sunglasses. If Lyra had been capable of rolling her eyes at that moment, she would have.

With a strength that surprised her, Gold hauled her inside the limousine and deposited her gracelessly on the floor before stepping in and shutting the door.

"Rennervate-" Narcissa cast at her, breaking her from the hold of the body bind. Lyra greedily filled her lungs with as much air as possible for a few cleansing breaths before turning on Gold.

"Really?! You said you wanted to make it look natural! You made me look like a damn amateur out there! Come on!" she whined petulantly.

"It's not my fault you weren't paying attention. What if that had been the boy, huh?" He offered.

"Bite me, Gold."

He didn't respond to her jab, but added, with a rising blush to his cheeks "We were running a little late, anyway. So, I wanted to keep it quick."

Lyra looked over to Narcissa for some back up, but saw that she too had a guilty blush creeping onto her face.

"Well great, guys. It's good to know that if we just blew our whole cover out there, that at least it was in pursuit of a good snog. Unbelievable!" She chastised them righteously for a few more moments as the limousine drove them down the busy London streets into Westminster.

They pulled into a parking garage under the Savoy hotel and Narcissa led them out of the vehicle into a private entrance that contained only a small foyer, a doorman and a single elevator.

"Back again, Mrs. Black?" The doorman said to Narcissa.

"Yes, Sam, thank you. This is my daughter-in-law Lyra and Pip, my security man," she lied smoothly, motioning to the Aurors.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both. Mrs. Black and her son are two of our favorites," he beamed warmly at them for which Narcissa awarded him a sweet smile and a large tip.

Sam called the elevator and ushered them inside before pushing the button for number 4 and stepping back out. "Have a lovely day," he said.

"Thank you, Sam," replied Lyra, stunned. "You guys stay here a lot?" Lyra inquired, turning to Mrs. Malfoy.

"It's nice to escape Lucius from time to time," Narcissa explained.

"But it's out in...you know...Muggle land," Lyra pressed, knowing how the Malfoys tended to feel about the no-maj world.

"Where he would never look for us," Narcissa smiled sadly.

The doors of the elevator opened then, revealing a huge open-floored penthouse with lovely cream and gray walls and tasteful combinations of rich carpet and striking hardwood floors. It had a modern look, complete with a stainless steel kitchen and a sitting area with overstuffed couches and lovely examples of modern art done in shades of blue on the walls.

"Wow. This is amazing," Lyra said, taking it in.

"Thank you. It's a little threadbare, but I like it," she replied.

 _Threadbare. Damn._ Lyra thought to herself.

"As much as I'm sure we'd all prefer to stay, we really should be geting on," Gold chimed in. "We've got a Portkey set up. It's on the table there."

Lyra frowned at inoffensive little silver dish sitting on the large oak table.

"Yeah," she replied, approaching it with her companions. She took a moment to look one more time around the lovely room. This was her last taste of freedom before getting to work. Work that would leave her either dead, grieving the death of a friend, or handing that friend over to authorities that may never being able to fix him, requiring him to spend the rest of his life away from his son.

"Count o' three then, lovelies?" Gold offered.

"1...2...3..."

The trio placed their hands on the rim of the silver dish in unison. Lyra felt the familiar, off-putting tug of gravity in all directions that was singular to the use of a Portkey for travel. She hated it. Always felt like she'd end up with her intestines getting pushed out of her belly button. It was an unpleasant experience altogether, even more so when you were Portkeying somewhere you'd rather not Portkey.

They came to rest sitting side by side on a delicate-looking white couch in the middle of a dark, but grand sitting room. The lights were low, but Lyra could tell that the walls were done up in hues of rich green. Stags and unicorns were charmed on to the wallpaper, moving gracefully about in glinting silver. A chandelier tinkled overhead, agitated by the current of wind generated from their sudden arrival. Lyra shook her head back and forth a few times to clear her disorientation from the trip. She looked over her shoulder in to the rest of the cavernous room where she spotted Harry and Simpkins speaking lowly to each other by the dim fire.

"Harry," she said gently.

"Hey there, Black," he replied walking over to her. "You give Gold a run for his money?"

"No, but Mrs. Malfoy did," Lyra said with a sardonic grin.

"Lyra!" Mrs. Malfoy chastened her.

Lyra pulled herself off the couch and wrapped her arms around her friend for the second time that day. "I"m sorry for what I said," she said in to his ear.

He squeezed her back, unashamed of the eyes on them and the sentimental display. "Me too. That wasn't much fun, was it?"

"No," she said releasing him, before turning to the rest of her companions. "So, I took a body bind to the back from the Scottish Gilderoy Lockhart over here and got all kidnapped," she said out loud to the room, spotting Rossman and Zabini around a desk in the back, pouring over a book together. "What have you guys been up to?"

"We went over to the east wing this afternoon and found the spell Lucius Malfoy used to do this. It's pretty much as we expected. Compulsion. Unbreakable with a possibility to blind a likely target and augment as needed. We did learn definitively that the person who cast the original spell has to be the same person who casts the blind. Meaning that unless Malfoy has a change of heart, we can't prevent it from expiring on Scorpius tomorrow," Rossman stated.

"Damn," Lyra replied. "So where are we then?" She asked.

"The west wing. My wing." Narcissa replied. "Lucius had the east and I the west. The north wing is the children's wing, which was Draco's and the South wing contains the kitchens and the public spaces."

"Wow. Ok, wait. So like, what would you do when Draco was a kid and it was time for dinner or something?" Lyra asked.

"I'd use the speaking dishes, or send him an owl," She replied as if it was obvious.

"Ha! Send him an owl. That's amazing!" Lyra exclaimed, looking excitedly around the great room. "What room is this?"

"My personal sitting room. No one can enter without my expressed permission. Not even my own family," she replied.

"Well, you know, gotta respect that personal space," Lyra responded, gazing up at the crystal chandelier.

"We're basing ourselves here, because it's protected. But after doing a walk-through with Mrs. Malfoy and the rest of the team, we've decided that the best place for the, er...confrontation would be the white ballroom in the north wing. It's big, has one entrance and few windows. There's also an antechamber hidden in the back wall that we can use to stage inside of for when you get him into the room," Harry said.

"Great," Lyra replied with a frown.

"It's also closest to Draco's room, which is where he will apparate when he comes home," Mrs. Malfoy added.

"How do we know he will apparate?" Lyra asked.

"Mrs. Malfoy closed the Manor off to the floo network after we arrived earlier today. The only registered Portkey is the one you used which is now here. We left the wards on the house that make long-range apparition impossible, so essentially, Mr. Malfoy will have to get himself close to the grounds and then apparate inside," Simpkins explained.

"And you're sure he'll apparate in to his room?" She asked.

"His room or the kitchens if he's peckish," his mother replied, knowingly.

"We moved the little muggle listening machines from where Mrs. Malfoy had placed them to various points around the north wing, including his bedroom, and also put some in the kitchens, just to be sure," Simpkins added.

"Damn, everybody. That's an actual plan," Lyra said rubbing her hands together. "So since he has to get himself here, and you dastardly villains kidnapped me off the street 45 minutes ago, how much time do we have?"

"About 2 hours if he takes the train, or 3 if he flies," Narcissa replied.

"Lyra looked over to a huge charmed clock on the wall that fit the stag and unicorn motif of the wallpaper. "So, that puts showtime in between 8:30 and 9:30 tonight."

She looked up at Harry, "I need to go through the north wing. I have to learn how to find my way to that ballroom with my eyes closed and I don't have much time."

"Ok, let's go," Harry replied.

* * *

MM


	15. Chapter 15

**October 2008  
Wiltshire, England  
Malfoy Manor  
Wednesday Evening**

Lyra went with Harry and Mrs. Malfoy to the north wing. It took 5 straight minutes of walking to get from the sitting room where they were to the main passage comprising the North end of the Manor. The ballroom was the first large room that they came to. Narcissa referred to it as the "white ballroom," the walls were a pearly, incandescent white decorated again with charmed figures in blue and silver that appeared to be the moving shapes of constellations. Perseus, Aries, Casseopia. The vaulted ceiling was a cobalt blue and decorated with static silver starbursts that cast a cool white light down on to the intricate mosaic of the dark wooden floor. The overall effect was stunning and had a vague Grecian temple feel. It seemed a serious set of decorations for a ballroom in a children's wing, but it was certainly beautiful.

As Harry had described, there was only one entrance into the room from the north main corridor. There were only a few small windows and those were up high, unlikely to be hit with a hex to rain glass on them. She walked to the back of the empty room where Narcissa muttered an incantation to open the wall revealing a small room behind. It was empty except for a dusty old armchair and brass chandelier.

"This room can only be opened from the outside. My husband's ancestors used it to teach lessons to naughty children who wouldn't mind their dance instructors," Narcissa said with placid acceptance.

"Holy crap. Zabini was right. Secret torture dungeon," Lyra muttered to herself.

"What?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"Oh, nothing," she replied. Deciding to change the subject, Lyra turned back to Harry. "Hey, if I'm leading him here, how do I open that door without him noticing and hexing me to oblivion?"

"I was planning on being outside the room to open it when the time came," he replied.

"Disillusionment charm? I don't know if that would fool Draco. Even compelled Draco," Lyra returned.

"Invisibility cloak. I got the jump on him with it when we were kids. He thought I was a ghost. It was brilliant," he answered.

"That, I would love to see," she mused.

They continued investigating the rest of the wing, Lyra trying her best to memorize the order of rooms; _First left is ballroom, then 3 right tutoring rooms, the blue sitting room on the right, small library on the left, right turn to the residential wing. 4 bedrooms with adjoining sitting rooms and baths. Draco's is the second on the right...honestly this place is ridiculous...thank goodness his bedroom is on the main level._

Narcissa ushered her into his bedroom without commenting, but Lyra knew it was his. She could smell it. He always smelled like sandalwood. His clothes, his hair, his skin. Always the same warm fragrance. It made her heart race. She hadn't been close enough to him last night to smell it, but in this room it hung from the curtains and rose up from the floorboards.

The room itself was large and the decoration of it set it apart from the rest of the house. It was normal, almost spartan in comparison. More like the penthouse at the Savoy. The walls were a pale gray and the floors a light, creamy wood. There was a modest brick fireplace across from his large bed. The bed was covered with a thick comforter of green and gray stripes and the walls were lined with bookcases overflowing with books and little trinkets. Of the two doors to the right of the bed, one led to a huge walk in closet, predictably full of black and green and the other to a gray sitting room with wooden furniture and yet more books. The door to the left led to the bathroom that was all white marble. It contained a huge tub, set back to be surrounded by windows that faced the woods, according to Narcissa. Next to the tub was a set of french doors that led out to a forest path that circled the grounds.

The whole thing was simple quality, like Draco, once you broke him down. It made Lyra unspeakably sad. She circled back to the main room and started looking at the bookshelves. She saw pictures of his family, pictures of him playing Quidditch, several of him with friends. She got to see Blaise Zabini as a 14 year old with buck-teeth. _Adorable_ , she thought. She stopped pursuing when her eyes fell on a picture of her. She was 12, waiving like a doofus and standing with her father Alistair in front of the American Museum of Wandlore. She'd sent him that picture in a letter shortly after with a little button that said, 'Someone at the AMW thinks I'm wand-erful!' She motioned to Harry and pointed it out.

"Huh. Thank goodness you grew your hair out. Yikes," he said.

She punched him in the arm. Twice, for good measure.

Narcissa showed her the little tuxedo'd Pukwudgie she'd bought Draco for one Christmas. It was truly terrible, she agreed with Narcissa. Worse than she remembered. He had not aged well.

Lyra found her sadness turning to rage. Draco was a person, not a tool to be used by his father. He was himself. Secretive, sarcastic and shy but also thoughtful, intelligent and loyal. He deserved better. He deserved freedom. As much as she cared for him as he was, who knows who he could've become if he hadn't been shackled by the expectations of a cruel father.

"Lyra," Harry snapped her back to reality. "It's nearly eight o'clock. He could be back soon. We should get the others in position and get ready. Lyra nodded and touched the tiny plastic tab behind her left ear that activated her little communications piece.

"Hey, everybody, it's Black. Gear up and meet us in the ballroom to get in position."

She got several mutters from everybody but Gold who seemed incapable of activating the thing, which he claimed didn't matter because "he was a better doer than a talker." _Sure..._

Some minutes later the entire team, dressed for battle, met in the ballroom. Harry was giving instructions. "Look, we don't know how long you'll be in there, so I hope you all used the loo. Whisper communication only when we have confirmation that he's back. One lumos in the room only, in case he wanders this way beforehand. Any questions?"

There were none. Harry murmured the spell to open the secret door in the wall "Good luck everyone, see you for the fight."

Lyra looked over at Narcissa Malfoy who averted her gaze, focusing on the charmed caricature of Taurus galloping across the wall. Lyra received several quick hits on the arm and well wishes of "see you for the fight," which she returned politely, and in Zabini's case, sarcastically. She was battling a rising lump in her throat the whole time. She had relied on every person in front of her at least once in the last week and she was reluctant to let them go. Every well wish put her closer to her task, closer to him.

Before the door was resealed, Zabini called out to her. He approached her and pulled her off to the side for some privacy. "Remember when you are trying to get him here that this is a man who loves you. Not just some raving lunatic. This is Draco and he loves you. You have power to control the situation as well, you understand?" He looked down at her intensely.

"Yeah," she said nodding her head nervously.

He hugged her quickly and made his way back to the rest of the team.

She was quiet as she, Harry and Narcissa retreated to the sitting room in the west wing. Lyra turned on the receiver for the bugs and set the dial to the bug Simpkins had told her was in his bedroom. She opened the speaker so the sound would pour into the room that any of them could hear. She then excused herself to the bathroom to change. She pulled on her black tactical pants, with a long-sleeved black shirt, and wandered out to spell on her anti-curse vest. She looked over to the ornate clock as she closed the vest around her back. _8:45. He could be here. He's probably close,_ she thought.

She walked over to flip through the channels on the receiver, but heard nothing new. The whole north wing was quiet and the kitchens were full of the routine noise of busy house-elves. She switched back to the channel monitoring his room and took a seat on the richly upholstered chair closest to the receiver. Harry sat on one end of the couch, staring in to the fire and Mrs. Malfoy sat on the other, pretending to read. Together, they waited.

* * *

At 9:30 Lyra felt her stomach growl. Her heart ached for her friends in the room. She called out to them on the comms and was happy to discover that Gold had jerky and was in a sharing mood.

Narcissa had offered to have the elves bring something up and Lyra politely refused until 10:00 when she could wait no longer.

"That's fine, dear. What would you like?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"Maybe just a piece of fruit...and brandy if you have it," Lyra said.

Narcissa used a spelled voice dish to contact the elves in the kitchen and ordered up some tea with fruit and nuts for them, plus the brandy for Lyra.

Ten minutes later there was a soft knock on the door and Mrs. Malfoy, as the lady of the manor, stepped out in to the hallway to retrieve the tray, politely pulling the door shut behind her to discuss some house matters with her elf.

She returned and Lyra was fixated on the receiver while Harry was discussing part of the plan with Rossman over the comms. She set a pear and the brandy down on the desk for Lyra and left the rest of the bowl and tea service on the coffee table in front of Harry. Lyra ripped in to the pear like a hyena and downed the brandy in 3 anxious gulps. The brandy was exquisite. It made her mouth feel like Christmas.

"Lyra," Mrs. Malfoy called.

"Yes?"

"Do you still have the Quatrefoil that he sent you?"

"I do. It's in my suitcase. Here let me get it for you.'

"No, no dear. I think you should wear it."

"Why?" Lyra asked?

"Because I think, unlike my husband, Draco will like it. It might make it easier to get him where you want him," she replied.

"That's not a bad idea, actually." Lyra stood up to retrieve the glittering pendant from her suitcase and string it around her neck. It was lovely to be sure, but to her, it felt like a diamond noose. "Is it new, or is it an heirloom?" She asked.

"It's mine," Narcissa replied wistfully. "It was a gift for when Draco was born."

"I feel silly wearing something so special like this," Lyra confessed.

"Please don't. I got it for giving him life. You're trying to give him his life back. I think it's appropriate," she said gently.

Lyra said nothing. She didn't know what to say.

Narcissa smiled at her warmly before looking off towards the bathroom. "I'm going to pop off to the ladies for a moment if it's alright. It's just right here, if you need it." She pointed to an adjoining room.

In her absence, Lyra and Harry spoke softly to each other about how long it would be appropriate to leave their friends locked in a tiny punishment cave before calling them back and heading back towards the ministry to protect the kid. When Mrs. Malfoy returned, they brought her in on the conversation, since it was her punishment cave, and her house they were occupying. They were discussing the safest configuration for traveling back when all three of them heard the characteristic popping noise of apparition on the receiver which was set, as it had been most of the night, to Draco's bedroom.

Lyra swallowed hard and found herself unable to speak. She listened to the soft sounds of him moving around the room. She wondered what he was doing. Taking off his jacket? Picking up a book? She could focus on nothing else. She vaguely heard Harry speak in to the comms that echoed in her ear notifying the team he was here. Lyra turned around to look at the 2 nervous faces behind her. Harry looked anxious, but determined. Mrs. Malfoy, sitting next to Harry, looked ill, her hand clutched to her chest.

Harry stood up and reached into his work bag for a slippery silver piece of fabric that he informed her was his invisibility cloak. They were discussing the logistics of when to start moving towards the north wing and where to split up when, from the receiver they heard the sound of a shower turning on.

"Really, frog? Now?" Lyra said to the receiver. "You vain little thing."

At that moment, she heard Zabini's words in her head and had an epiphany. She was doing this all wrong. _He loves you, you can use that._

"I need to change," Lyra chirped suddenly.

"Uh, like now?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Now." She dove in to her suitcase, pulling out a rich purple nightdress. She raised her wand and muttered a spell causing her vest to fall from her body. "Harry, turn around!"

He did so.

She lept out of her clothes as quickly as she could before removing the armholes of her vest with her wand and respelling the it around her body like an anti-curse tube top. She threw the dress over her head and reached down for her thin white bathrobe which she donned as well, before flinging the pendant back around her neck. She pulled her hair out the low bun she was wearing and decided against shoes.

"Ok. we're going." she announced.

Harry turned around, eyeing her as if she'd grown another head. "What are you doing?"

"This will work a lot better than tactical pants and my vest," she said.

"You are wearing the damned vest, are you mental?" he retorted.

"Yes, I am wearing the damned vest, Harry," she said knocking on her belly which made a hollow sound. "I have to get to his room before he's out of the shower. We're going now."

"Ok, ok," he replied.

Lyra started moving hastily for the door with Harry behind her when Narcissa spoke, "I'm...I hate to ask this but, could one of you stay with me a moment, I think I'm going to faint."

Both Aurors looked back at the blonde woman who was absolutely gaunt and drained of blood. "I...I'm just so worried...I can't breathe...I can't..." and she began hyperventilating.

"Harry, stay, I'll contact you when I'm close. I have to go," Lyra shot out, disappearing out the door with a sense of purpose she hadn't had 2 minutes ago.

"Lyra's moving. She's headed for his room. Keep this channel clear for her if she needs me." Lyra heard Harry's voice in her head and she moved quickly down the corridor to the north wing.

When she reached the main hall of the wing, she called out to Harry. "Harry, is the water still running?"

"Yes. Do what you have to do."

Lyra tore down the dark passageway, her bare feet silent against the marble. She turned right to access the residential spaces and approached Draco's slightly open door. She pushed it open slowly, ensuring no noise and peered inside. The main room was dark except for the sensual glow of the fire. She could see a faint light being cast from under the closed bathroom door.

"I'll be on my way soon," she whispered in to her comm

"I'll be there, Black," he murmured back.

She entered the room quickly and softly closed the door. She walked over to his large bed, swallowed the knot of fear in her stomach and laid down. She barely had time for her breathing to slow and the thin sheen of sweat to evaporate off her forehead when the sound of the shower suddenly ceased.

 _Holy shit, here goes,_ she thought to herself. _Showtime_.

* * *

Author's Note - Thanks for hanging in there. Dynamite goes boom next chapter. -MM


	16. Chapter 16

**October 2008  
Wiltshire, England  
Malfoy Manor  
Wednesday Evening**

Lyra rolled on to her side, facing away from the bathroom door. She could hear him moving around in the bathroom. She put a slight bend in her bare legs making one coil on top of the other to put them on display. He was a leg guy. No sense denying it.

His bathroom door opened. Lyra stopped breathing. She heard him gasp and stop breathing also. _Got him._

Against all good sense, Lyra closed her eyes as her ex-lover and compelled stalker walked towards her at a tortuously slow pace, almost as if he wasn't sure she was really there.

She knew when he was directly behind her. She could feel the heat pouring off his body, warming her skin through the thin fabric of her robe. He reached down, bending over her, and tangled one of his large, pale hands in between hers which were pulled up close to her chin. The contact with his skin felt like a burn. She took in a slow breath and laced her fingers with his. He hissed in response.

"Lyra?" He whispered.

"What do you want, Draco?" she huffed in annoyance, turning his hand and placing his warm palm over her heart, effectively commandeering his whole right arm. She felt his other hand start carding gently through her long, black hair and, she had to admit it, it made her eyes droop a little.

"Why are you here?" He asked, continuing his soothing ministrations.

"Because your mom and her evil Scotch butler jumped me on the street so she could wrap me up for you like an early Samhain gift...presumably so you'll stay at home forever or some bullshit, I don't know." she grumped, as nonchalantly as she could, snuggling into his hand on her chest.

He chuckled. "You're still the same," he said in amazement, rubbing deeper into her scalp and eliciting a genuine 'mmmm' from her, which she immediately regretted.

"And you're still a vain little snot who takes hour long showers, cum-se cum-sa," she fired back casually.

He freed his hand from over her heart, grabbing her wrist. He tugged it gently until she was pulled on to her back and came face to face with him for the first time in ten years. They regarded each other in silence. The sight of him ripped open every scar he'd left on her when they parted years ago. The sensation itself was physically painful and left her breathless.

 _Still gorgeous...the bastard_. That was the first thought she registered, once she had recovered the ability to think at all. He was tall and slim but with broad shoulders. His white blonde hair was attractively wayward from his shower. He had the same straight nose and the same stunning quicksilver eyes that she remembered. His hands were luminously pale in the semi-darkness, elegant but strong and marked like a map with prominent blue veins. Her eyes flashed with longing. She had loved his hands.

"I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart," he murmured to her after several moments of silence. His voice brought her back into herself and reminded her that she was there to fight this dude, not ogle this dude. This shirtless dude. This dude wearing nothing but a towel.

Her not-ogling was cut short when Draco crashed his lips to hers in a kiss that was bruising and heavy. Not loving the idea of him joining her on the bed, she pushed up on to her elbows to press him back. He seemed to take that as a response and pulled her to her feet wrapping her tightly in his arms, never breaking contact with her mouth.

She gave herself a moment, just a moment in there, to kiss him back. Her hands came up instinctively around his neck, blunt nails raking over the fine hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to growl into her mouth as she worked her tongue in time with his. _Oh right...the homicidal compulsion...yes that._ She pulled back instantly, leaving her arms around his neck, registering the exquisite feel of his smooth skin under her hands.

"Why'd you stop?" he inquired, eyes never leaving her lips.

"You know why," she said dropping her arms and putting some space between them.

"I do," he said sadly. "Will you do something for me?"

"As if you are in any position. But yeah, try me," she said, stalling. _I need to get him in clothes, I don't want to fight him while he's naked._

"Just be honest with me, like it was. Like we were," he said, sounding almost like a sad child.

"I will if you will," she countered.

"Agreed," he replied.

"Are you gonna try and kill me, Lyra?" he asked with his eyebrows arched.

"Not unless you make me," she replied honestly, looking down at her feet and taking a moment to phrase her next question appropriately. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him.

"Because I have to." He spat before looking off in to the distance, frustrated.

"What are you going to do with me?" she inquired.

He hesitated. "Right now? I'm going to get as close to you as you'll allow me and probably annoy you very much in the process," he replied stepping towards her, clearly evading the question.

"So it sounds like there's time then," she mused.

"Time to...?" he replied, reaching out for her waist.

"Time to put on pants! What the hell is the matter with you?!" she exclaimed, batting his hands away and retreating back towards the fireplace.

He laughed brightly at her before advancing again, planting a kiss on her forehead, and walking in to his closet.

 _This is some fucked up shit_ , Lyra thought to herself. He was almost normal. All of the typical Draco characteristics were there. Flirty, aggressive, passionate. But he would come after her at some point. Of that she was sure. She could feel it bubbling between them like hot tar.

Draco emerged from his closet a few minutes later wearing a perfectly tailored black-on-black suit. "What are you wearing?" she asked.

"What?! Long lost love I haven't seen in ten years gets dropped into my bedroom courtesy of my crazy, meddling mother. You think I'm going to wear a horse blanket?" He defended, ever the snob.

"Hey, man. It's your house," she dismissed, looking away and pretending to analyze the contents of his bookshelf. Her eyes fell on the little Pukwudgie statue that his mother had pointed out to her earlier. She bent down to pick it up. "Like looking in to a mirror, isn't it Frog," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"Come on Puk, you don't look so bad. Few lines around the eyes maybe, but you'll do," he replied, adjusting his jet cufflinks.

"You unbelievable bastard," she choked out looking up at him with pure venom.

"I'm kidding, of course," he said, pausing to look at her, his features softening. "You are so beautiful," he said in a gentle voice. Lyra honestly couldn't tell if it made her feel thrilled or terrified.

"Too beautiful too torture?" She inquired tiredly, turning her back to him and putting the little figurine back in it's place.

"Oh no. I'm afraid that's what beautiful things were made for," he replied smoothly as he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her small waist and burying his face in her hair, breathing her in.

Lyra felt a shiver of fear run up her back. But kept her face composed.

"So...love through violence it is, then" she said curling her toes in to the floor beneath her.

"Love is violence, sweetheart," he said sadly. She could feel his breath brush her skin.

He traced his lips along the junction between her neck and shoulder. She used to love that. He began planting soft kisses along her neck up to the space behind her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned in to him, she couldn't help it. Draco raised one of his hands off her waist to lightly trace the pebbled gems of the Quatrefoil hanging from her neck. "It looks good on you. I'd always hoped to see you in one someday," Draco purred lowly into her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she extracted herself from his grasp immediately, feeling mildly nauseous.

 _Oh hell no. Move him now. Get him down the corridor to the ballroom. Left, then left, 3 doors and then then right. What will he do if I run? Will he chase me or will he hex me in the back? Her pulse began to quicken. One stupefy between the shoulder blades could screw her whole plan,_ she thought. _Come on, Black. Make him bend._

Lyra schooled a pained expression on her face and glanced over to Draco, who looked absolutely bereft without her in his arms. "Will...will you walk with me a while? I just want to understand," She said in a sad murmur.

He furrowed his brow and she could see tears gathering at the corners of his pale eyes. "Of course. I'd be honored," he replied. Ever the aristocrat, he held his hand foreword gesturing them out of the room and into the corridor towards the left. Towards the ballroom.

As they walked, she began. "I think I know the endgame here but I don't understand how it works. Do...do you want to kill me, Frog?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not," he dismissed.

"But then why...I mean...What does it feel like?" she inquired.

He shrugged. "I feel like myself, mostly but with the added simple truth that you have to be destroyed. Toyed with and killed. It's like how Tuesday follows Monday. The sun sets in the west. I wake up another day with the knowledge that you have to die, bloody and broken. It's an oddly impersonal sentiment considering that I love you and whatnot," he said, never looking at her.

Her breath caught at his admission which was both placid and completely vicious at the same time.

"You know it's a curse, right?" she asked.

"Don't insult me, Puk. Of course I know it's a sodding curse." He huffed out, annoyed. "Bloody good one too, I'd wager. Wouldn't even let me kill myself to stop the compulsion. I tried several times. Poison, drugs, long soak underwater in the bath. I just...couldn't. Damn thing wouldn't let me."

Lyra stopped moving. She looked up at him, the dim light of the corridor making him look almost like porcelain.

He reached up with one hand and lifted some of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.

Considering that Draco had tried to take his own life to avoid taking hers brought a singular, very powerful thought crashing to the forefront of her mind: She really didn't want him to die. He was good. Ok, he wasn't good, but he was fucking _hers_. How dare he try and kill himself? He had to be in the world. She wanted him in the world. She just...wanted him.

She impulsively launched herself into his arms. He caught her readily, albeit a little surprised. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him. She suddenly missed him intensely. Who he was. Who they were.

He held her tightly, her feet dangling several inches off the floor. He said nothing, just savoring the contact. She loosened her arms after a time and he lowered her gently to the floor. He looked down at her and smiled. "Still such a bleeding heart, Lyra. I'm appalled," he quipped.

She wasn't having it. She pulled him down by the neck and kissed him soundly until he was breathless and she was dizzy. She walked away from him then on shaky legs, turning left down the main corridor, leaving him slack-jawed behind her.

"Keep up, kid. I don't have all day," she chirped.

He was by her side again in seconds, regarding her with a small smile as they walked together.

"Why bring up my father?" she continued, switching gears.

"To emotionally compromise you. Make you think I'd betrayed you or that I was in danger. It was a self-conscious move, I admit. I mostly just wanted to see what you'd do." he replied.

"Oh. And did I meet your expectations?" she asked, secretly counting doors as they walked.

He chuckled. "You've yet to disappoint me, sweetheart. You decided to come. You decided to push."

"Is that so?" she replied, feigning nonchalance.

"Yes, it is," he answered gently.

Sure he lacked some of the facts, but he was essentially correct. He couldn't know the extent of her motivation. Save her own life, save Scorpius. Save him, if she could. Prevent him from being someone who, in addition to everything else, killed his own son. It would break whatever was left of him and she felt, that whatever that was, he deserved to keep for himself, dead or alive. It was...complicated to say the least.

With all of her thoughts swirling turbulently in this way, Lyra felt her head start to pound. The lack of sleep, lack of food and intensity of the situation finally catching up with her. _Wilted flower routine? Hey, I can do that_ , she thought. She reached out to loop her arm with Draco's and pressed her body in to his side as they walked. "My head hurts, Draco, can we stop for a minute?" She asked, conveniently across from the ballroom door.

"Sure, there's plenty of sitting rooms-" he began.

"No, this is fine," I'm just tired, she said honestly, pulling him with her into the room.

They entered the white ballroom walking slowly, shoulder to shoulder, like a couple at a party, pausing as they reached the center. Lyra was leaning on him heavily, partly for show, partially out of necessity. _I should have had more than fruit and brandy_ , she thought to herself. _Doing this without coffee? The hell was I thinking..._

She looked around the ornate room, eyes fluttering rapidly, trying to spot the scale-like shimmer of Harry's invisibility cloak. "It's beautiful," she said honestly.

He hummed in agreement, but was looking down at her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her around to face him. With his off hand he turned her chin up, forcing her to look at him, and then outlined her jaw in a gentle caress as he looked into her eyes. "I love you very much, you know. It broke my heart to push you away back then. I want...I need you to know that. You have to believe me," he said in an increasingly urgent tone.

"I do, Draco, relax," she replied, trying to duck the intensity of his gaze. She did believe him, more or less, but she didn't need a retelling of their depressing past while she was facing a fight and her head was pounding out of her eyeballs.

"You want to save me," he spoke down at her, while she looked at her feet. "It's what you do. It's why you stood by me for all those years and it's the same reason you're in this room right now." Lyra swayed on her feet, feeling slightly dizzy.

Draco shot a wary glance at at her and continued. "I know there's a part of you that still loves me too," he said plainly. "I don't deserve it. Any of it. I'm a bad person. I'm going to hurt you and you know it. But you're still here," he said with true anguish in his voice. "You're the best person I know. Better than Potter, the insufferable git. I know you were planning on him being here with us. I doubt he'll ever forgive himself for letting you die. Honestly, I'll probably never forgive him either."

"What are you talking about? Harry isn't here." Lyra said, lifting her head to him.

"Oh," he said, suddenly disappointed. "I thought we were doing the honesty bit here. You know. Old times sake and all that. Well, I'll help you out. Potter's not here to save the day. I had my mother stun him upstairs," he explained.

Lyra froze. Her hands beginning to shake. It had all fallen apart. She was going to have to fight him straight up. She would probably have to kill him.

"Why would she do that?" She stalled.

"Imperious curse."

"How long?" Lyra asked.

"Just upstairs. When she went to the ladies. She always forgets that's where I used to catch her to petition her for more allowance when I was younger," he quipped.

"How sweet," she replied in disgust, pulling herself out of his arms and taking her wand out of her robe, backing a fair distance away from him. "You can't beat me hand to hand," she replied confidently.

"No, sweetheart. I can't."

"How do you expect to kill me then?" she inquired, raising her wand slightly.

"I killed you an hour ago," he replied sadly.

She froze. Swallowing hard as the tears gathered in her eyes. "The brandy," she said, defeated.

He nodded. "Delayed action poison."

He looked down at her still shaking hands. "I'd say you have about 5, maybe 10 minutes before it takes you."

"I...I need to sit down." Lyra said, voice shaking.

Draco reached out for her. She backed away violently.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She looked around frantically. "Harry!" She choked out in a desperate sob and started meandering away from Draco aimlessly, the dizziness starting to set in again. "Harry!" She cried again weakly.

"He's not here," Draco replied harshly.

At what felt to her addled brain like full speed, Lyra turned to point her wand at the hidden door to the antechamber containing the rest of the Aurors. She got through the first word of the incantation before Draco fired a curse at her, breaking her arm. She screamed, but had enough remaining coordination to flip her wand into her off hand.

"Stupefy!" She screamed, throwing the hex at him.

With the poison setting her off balance, he parried her easily, expelling her wand from her hand. The force of the spell on her weakening body caused her to trip over her feet, stumbling backwards. She stared up at him with tears streaming down her face, all but hyperventilating. He regarded her warily, as if the sight of her this way was offensive to him.

"It will be over soon. I'm hoping the poison will keep you from feeling so much the last few minutes." His voice sounded thin and far away.

"What?" She said shaking her head. She tried in vain to scuttle away from him on her good arm.

"Sectumsempra!" He yelled without warning.

She gasped in pain as her father's curse ripped dozens of deep cuts into her body, pouring her blood freely onto the ornate wooden floor of the ballroom. The sting of them was excruciating and her limbs felt like lead as she attempted to crawl away from her assailant, legs refusing to flex under the effects of the poison.

"Harry..." She whimpered.

"I'm so sorry, Puk. Please don't cry," Draco said, frowning at her back.

She barked out a desperate sob, slipping on her own blood beneath her as she tried to get away.

"Crucio!" He yelled.

She writhed, screaming hoarsely, her face pressed to the floor. She felt her intestines cramping forcefully with the combined effects of curse and poison and she struggled in vain to make herself tiny. To disappear. She lost all sense of time and felt as if he was trying to crush her in to a single point of fear and pain. She cried out for mercy, for death and finally for her mother before falling silent, unable to produce any more sound.

At some point her vision went red and faded to nothing, but she could still hear. Draco lifted the curse and she heard him come towards her, his footfalls out-competed by the sound of her labored, rattled panting. He was crying. She furrowed her brow. It always broke her heart when Draco cried. _Shhh. It's ok. It's ok_ , she thought, or maybe said out loud, she wasn't sure. She recalled an image in her mind of Draco's son playing with a little toy train in a chair and she felt tears dripping down her nose on to the floor to mix with her sticky blood. She weakly nodded her head to let him know she was ready. He choked out an anguished sob. Lyra heard only the first word of the curse before the world went black and she felt no more.

"AVADA..."

* * *

Author's Note - So there we go. Hope you like it, next chapter coming out soon! -MM

 **Samhain** \- Halloween


	17. Chapter 17

**October 2008**  
 **Wiltshire, England**  
 **Malfoy Manor**  
 **Thursday**

Draco awoke with a groan. His head was pounding, his mouth full of cotton, and his bed beneath him felt as hard as a rock. He mumbled something unintelligible and turned on to his side. The action sent a sudden jolt of pain shooting in between his shoulder blades like he'd been slashed with a knife. The sensation had him sitting up and trying to reach back behind himself to determine the cause. It was then that he realized that the hand bracing him on his bed to hold him up was resting on hard wood instead. He looked around quizzically, _What the bloody hell..._

He was in his wing at his Parent's house. In the ballroom, his wand gone to god-knows-where. _Whoa. Must have been a hell of a weekend,_ he thought to himself.

"Come on, Black! WAKE UP!" he heard a voice shout behind him.

He turned to face the commotion and saw 4 people anxiously crouching around Harry 'sodding' Potter, who appeared to be forcing something down the throat of a bloodied corpse in a nightgown. He closed his eyes and shook his head to reorient himself and hopefully clear the unwelcome hallucination from his mind. _What did I take?_ he wondered.

"Lyra! Please wake up!" he heard Potter choke out in a half-yell, half-sob.

His eyes shot open and immediately scanned the room for her before locking on the body in Potter's arms. Long black hair, matted with blood. Lovely tan legs marred with seeping cuts. Her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. The purple nightdress she wore was stained black from where her blood had soaked it. She had his mother's favorite Quatrefoil hanging curiously from her slim neck. Her hazel eyes were open, glazed and staring at nothing. _Merlin, no..._

"LYRA!" He roared pulling himself to his feet, ignoring the sting between his shoulders.

Potter looked up at him, stunned. "You!" he shouted accusingly. "You should be dead, you son of a bitch!" he cried, pulling Lyra's body in closer to his chest, covering his hands and arms with her blood.

"Spare me, Potter. What are you on about?" he snapped back roughly. His eyes landed then on Blaise Zabini who he pressed for information, "Blaise, what the devil is this? Why are you here? Why is she here?"

His friend made to speak, but was cut off by an irate Potter who was in the process of handing Lyra...or her body, off to a young blonde witch. "Why? I'll tell you why you miserable arsehole!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet and stalking towards him. "She was here because of you! She was trying to save you, trying to save your son and you bloody killed her for it!"

Draco had just enough time for his jaw to fall open in shock before it was met with the blunt force of Potter's fist, sending the blonde wizard back onto the floor.

"What are you talking about?! What about Scorpius? Is he hurt? I didn't kill anybody!" He rambled, ears ringing from the force of the punch.

"Your son is fine. He's safe. You have her to thank for it, you selfish bastard!"

He looked past the angry wizard towering over him back to Lyra. The blonde witch holding her was openly crying and rocking Lyra slightly, as if to soothe her.

"Potter, I swear to you. I have no idea what's going on," Draco stated, choking back a sob as he regarded her body.

"I believe you, Malfoy," Harry bit out coldly before walking away and motioning back to him with a lazy point of his finger. "Gold, Simpkins. Restrain Mr. Malfoy for transport to St. Mungos for evaluation."

"No. I want to know what's going on and I want to see my son," Malfoy protested before an Incarcerus charm wrapped him in thick ropes, forcing him to remain on the ground.

"In time, Mr. Malfoy," a young dark haired wizard said to him nervously. Draco sneered at him and turned his attention back to Potter who was addressing Draco's old friend.

"Blaise. Shacklebolt and a cleanup team should be arriving any minute, I want you to send an owl to update Astoria Nott and her husband. They'll need to remain secured for now, until we figure out if it worked," Harry directed. "Simpkins, leave him to Auror Gold and go back to the west wing. Mrs. Malfoy is in the sitting room in a body bind and she'll want to be Rennervated, I'm sure. Please tell her that Draco is safe. Don't say anything to her about Lyra just yet. She's prone to panic attacks, both real and imaginary, and I don't think she'll take it well right now," he said with no malice.

The fireplace in the ballroom roared to life allowing Kingsley Shacklebolt and 5 more Aurors to enter the room. "Harry, what happened?" The old Auror asked, walking over to Potter.

"It seems that Malfoy got back into the manor under our noses and found a way to put his mother under the Imperious curse. She told me as much and then attacked me when I left to meet the team that was locked in the antechamber you see there. Lyra got him here like she was supposed to, but I wasn't there to help her and he...she's dead, sir," Harry bit out, struggling to finish.

"No." Draco choked out softly. "I...I would never hurt her. She's...she's my friend...I..." he trailed off.

"We know, Mr. Malfoy. You weren't yourself when it happened, but we all cared for the lass, so don't expect anybody to be gettin' over it just yet," his Scottish guard said to him.

Shacklebolt regarded the American witch's body warily. "I have to get a hold of the Auror's office at MCUSA," he swallowed hard, rubbing a hand across his face. "And I have to tell her parents." He sounded tired, crushed.

"Sir, I should be the one. It was my call, it was my fault," Potter interjected.

"No, Harry. It's my responsibility," the old Auror replied.

Shacklebolt locked eyes with Draco and looked at him, not with rage, but with sympathy.

"HARRY! HARRY!" came a feminine shriek from the center of the room. "Harry she's breathing!"

Everyone in the room moved at those words, surrounding his witch, and preventing his being able to see her. He heard a choked intake of breath and then the sound of her retching. She emitted a strangled moan and begin sobbing hysterically, which set him straining against the ropes around his arms and legs in an attempt to get to her.

"Harry!" she wailed weakly. "Harry!"

The crowd thinned and he saw Potter hoist the shivering witch into his arms, which caused her to cry out in pain. "Kingsley, I'm taking her to Mungo's now."

"Go, Potter. GO," the man directed.

Draco watched as she disappeared into the fireplace, weeping into the shoulder of his nemesis.


	18. Chapter 18

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Thursday evening**

Draco was confined to a bed on the fourth floor of the hospital, under heavy guard. His mother was permitted to see him, and spent 20 minutes of their 30 minute visit weeping on his arm. She explained to him that he had been cursed by his father and that Lucius would likely be going to prison for the rest of his life. _Good_ , Draco thought, not wanting to burden his mother with his hatred.

She was able to tell him that Scorpius and his ex-wife were safe, but was not permitted to say where they were and that Draco wouldn't be able to see his son until he had been cleared of all suspicion of compulsion by the mediwizards. When he asked about Lyra, she was only able to reveal that the "sweet girl" was still alive and fighting the residual effects of the poison. Draco had been interrogated nearly the entire day as to which poison he used, but the Aurors hadn't found any evidence of it at the Manor and he couldn't remember. He even asked them to bring in a legilimens to help, but the wizard who read him was unable to sift through the corruption in his memories to make anything out.

By the time his mother left, he was a ball of rage and confusion. He wanted to see her. He missed his son. He wanted answers. He wanted a drink.

After being lost in his worry for an unknown period of time. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Head Auror at the MoM and Harry Potter, acclaimed wanker, entered his room, pulling him from his thoughts. Harry excused his guards and he and his boss pulled up two seats alongside Draco's bed. They sat in awkward silence for several moments before Draco cleared his throat and spoke. "How is she? What did I...what happened to her?" he asked, looking at Potter.

"Fractured arm. Delirium from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. The bezoar cleared the worst of the poision, but what's left is making her seize. Significant blood loss secondary to diffuse scattered cuts along the body."

Draco swallowed hard and looked down, dropping a few silent tears onto his bound hands.

"I wonder what Snape, a man who protected you, who killed for you, would think, knowing you used his curse to disfigure his own daughter?" Harry bit out cruelly.

"Harry, if you can't control yourself, you can get out." Shacklebolt commanded. "Mr. Malfoy, we understand that your attack on Miss Black was unintentional. We're here to ask you some questions to learn more about what happened," he explained.

"Go ahead then," Draco replied.

"Can you tell us the last thing you remember before waking up this morning at the Manor?"

"I was in London, getting pissed at my flat," he answered honestly.

"Do you remember the date?" Shacklebolt inquired.

"No, but it was a day or two after my flight back from Spain,"

"And when was that?"

"September, 22 or 24, I can't recall," he replied.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you know the date today?"

"I dunno. When I woke up, it felt like after a rager, I figured three, maybe four days? That would put us late September," he mused.

"Mr. Malfoy, the date today is October 29th," Shacklebolt responded.

Draco opened his eyes wide. "What?"

"We believe you've been under compulsion for approximately a month, maybe a bit longer," Potter explained.

"Tell me what he did, please. My mother, the mediwizards, my sodding guards, it's all dismissals. He compelled me, he took away my mind, he made me hurt a friend. I have a right to know," Draco spit out in a rush.

Potter and Shacklebolt looked warily between each other for a moment before Harry spoke.

"We have evidence that your father struck you with an old curse that he discovered in one of the volumes in your family archives. The curse, is an irreversible compulsion that induces the victim to kill a person that they love. It would appear that your father cast a supplementary blind over your son, Scorpius to prevent you from targeting him," Potter explained.

Draco flexed his fists wrists in his restraints.

"Based on evidence obtained through legilimency by Auror Black, it seems that your father was expecting you to target Astoria Nott and kill her. It was his plan, from there, to ensure your capture and petition the family courts for primary custody of your boy," Shacklebolt added before continuing. "Miss Black had also established that your father was angry with Mrs. Nott for what he perceived as a restriction on time with his grandson."

"Astoria hates him, I can tell you that. She doesn't like leaving Scorpius alone with my parents, because of my father. She gets along well enough with mother," Draco explained. "I supported her in that decision. My father's not fit to be around children...trust me."

"The problem with his plan, of course, was that you didn't go after Astoria Nott, you went after Lyra," Harry picked up. "She started getting strange letters in early October, threatening to expose her as Snape's daughter. She was about to just release a public statement confirming her parentage, when she received a scroll from Snape, a kind of automatic ward, that informed her that she and you were in danger and to come find me, so she did. We worked the case with a team of Aurors, leading to your father's arrest. The spell that he used to protect your son had to be recast weekly by him. Once we had him in custody, he refused to do it. That was yesterday morning. We essentially had one day remaining on the blind so we, Lyra and I, decided to draw you out to capture you to see if you could be treated. Your mother offered the Manor, since it would be away from your son and secluded. We set up there with a team, but you got the jump on us...on me really. I was supposed to be there to stop you but I had to fight your mother off first. I was supposed to be there."

"I don't remember," Draco admitted sadly.

"Your mum is quite a good in a fight. It took me several minutes and a good chase around the west wing to get her in a bind. After I did, I ran to the ballroom. I found you there and she was on the ground and I just..."Potter trailed off.

Shacklebolt picked it up from there. "This curse, Mr. Malfoy is essentially iron-clad. The compulsion only breaks if the target or the cursed is killed. From our research, when the curse is fulfilled the affected will come to, disoriented and not remember a thing. We know that it appears the curse has been fulfilled but we honestly don't know if it's because you died or she died."

"Wait, what?" Draco inquired, confused.

Harry cleared his throat and looked around the room nervously. "When I got to the ballroom and saw you with her like that I..." he paused, drawing a deep breath. "I killed you, Malfoy. I mean, I tried to. Hit you with the killing curse right in the back. I honestly don't know why you aren't dead," he said plainly.

Well, the pain between his shoulder blades made sense now. _Saint Potter tried to kill me! Or he possibly did kill me! What a hypocrite,_ he thought to himself.

"Ok, but I don't see why this makes any difference now," Draco pointed out. "If it's over, it's because one of us died, as you say." _Not her not her not her_ , he prayed in his head.

"To your father's case, no, but to Mr. Potter's future as an Auror it does," Shacklebolt responded as Harry looked away.

Draco laughed darkly. "I don't give a damn fig about Potter's future at the company," his mirth quickly turned to anger. "How could you let her do this, Potter? Run off and all but get herself killed. Maybe you're just better suited for housemaking and celebrity tours."

"Auror Black came to us seasoned and highly trained, young man. Not to mention that she 'all but got herself killed,' as you say, in an effort to protect your son. You would do well to show her and her abilities a little more respect," Shacklebolt boomed, in an agitated tone.

"That's...that's not what I meant," Draco said, deflating.

"This," Shacklebolt continued, "between you two, stops now. There are bigger things happening here."

"He tried to kill me!" Draco exclaimed.

"You were killing my friend!" Harry responded.

"She's my friend!" Draco fired.

"You have a real interesting way of demonstrating your friendship. Absolute bloodbath." Harry bit out, bitterly.

That silenced him.

"You also blew up my sodding house!" Harry added.

"I did not!" Draco defended.

"How the hell would you know? I was there! You did! You blew the front door off the hinges trying to get to Lyra while my wife and children hid in a bedroom upstairs!" Harry raged.

"What?" Draco said slowly, looking to Shacklebolt for confirmation.

"I don't..."

"I know, Malfoy, you don't remember," Harry said getting up and walking out of the room.

"Did I do that?" Draco asked the remaining wizard.

"By all accounts you did. Mrs. Potter and the children are fine, but all of this, it's affected him as you can see," Shacklebolt answered, clearly annoyed by the behavior of the two men.

Draco sighed, feeling crushed by the weight of guilt for so many things he had no memory of. "Right. Look, I think Potter's a right wanker, and I always will, but I will do everything in my power to see my father put in a hole for the rest of his miserable life. How can I help you do that," He said, looking up.

"By telling us whatever you can. I expect you'll have to testify as well."

"Whatever you need." Draco replied. "Can I see her?"

"At some point you'll have to," Shacklebolt sighed. "The spell-damage Mediwizard feels like you need to be exposed to her and then examined under legilimency to see if the curse has actually resolved."

"When?"

"Before midnight, which is when the blind on your son expires."

Draco nodded. "I want additional restraints and extra guards. If it's not gone I...I want her to feel safe. Also, the legilimens has to be better than the bloke they have here. I'm quite good at occlemency and Lyra won't trust a read from someone who isn't at least excellent."

"We can do that, Mr. Malfoy, but you should know that it likely won't make much difference to Auror Black. She's hardly been conscious since she arrived," Shacklebolt informed him before exiting the room, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Author's Note - Thank you for reading! I'm trying to get these chapters out quickly to shed light on exactly what happened. My special thanks to Meiaideas12, Shhhh. I'm an alien and Marloweee1856 (bae) for your kind reviews. The future's open from here. I have one idea for their reunion, but nothing set in stone. I am sure Lyra will let me know what she wants, just as soon as she figures it out. :) -MM


	19. Chapter 19

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Thursday evening**

At Draco's request, the Ministry sent over a legilimency expert to do a proper read of him as a baseline for when he saw Lyra. The witch they dispatched was a shy, mousy little thing, about 100 months pregnant. Draco eyed her critically as she introduced herself to him. He wasted no time in throwing up his strongest defenses on her first attempt to see what she was made of.

She wasn't bad. She was much better than the legilimens they had on staff at the hospital. She wasn't nearly as good as Lyra and, honestly, she wasn't as good as Draco either. There were a several key barriers that he put up for her that she couldn't surmount.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you block me, I will see the barrier itself and I won't be able to make an honest determination," she explained, in a tired voice after retreating from his mind.

"I know," he countered. "I have no intention of blocking you. I just needed to make sure you were competent.

The little witch raised her eyebrows. "You are a very good occlumens."

"Yes I know," he replied simply. "Ok, go again."

She sighed, but then narrowed her eyes and went to work.

* * *

It was about ten at night when they took him downstairs. He wore two sets of manacles around his wrists and another set around his ankles. He had four escort guards with him, rather than the standard two, and his ministry approved legilimens. They led him down to the third floor - _Potions and Poisons_ and then back to a secluded section of the ward labeled _Poison Critical Care_.

Her room was the last in the small sub-unit. It could fit two patients, but as Draco entered the room, he saw that the first bed was unoccupied. Lyra's bed was concealed by a thin white curtain. His guards parked him to sit on the side of the empty bed next to hers. He asked for one wrist and one ankle to be tethered to the bed as a precaution. He didn't trust his own mind. He didn't trust anything.

Lyra was being guarded as well, which made the room quite crowded. He raised an eyebrow in question to Blaise Zabini who was standing just outside of the partition. His former friend just shrugged his shoulders in response. Nobody seemed to know a damn thing.

His legilimens asked if he was ready and he gave a tight nod. She motioned to a healer to draw back the curtain and Draco held his breath.

She barely looked alive. Her skin was pale white, instead of her usual honey tan. She had dark circles under her eyes. There was matted blood still in her long hair, which had been thoughtlessly pulled back into a high bun. _She would hate that_ , he thought. The cuts that had been...that he had put all over her body remained and were mostly closed, but looked painful and inflamed.

He looked up at one of her attendants and asked why they hadn't healed them.

"We can't yet. She doesn't have the blood. She's had replenishing potion, but it will take another day or so." The healer answered, with a judgmental glare at him. Draco didn't care, he just wanted her to recover. To wake up. To let him fall to his knees and beg her for forgiveness.

"Mr. Malfoy, may I?" his legilimens asked from off to his side.

"Yes." He replied.

"Legilimens-" the witch commanded, wand pointed at his temple.

He took a deep breath and laid himself open as possible. He had to do this right, or he'd never get to see her again and they'd keep him from Scorpius. Screw his pride, they were all that mattered right now.

She walked though his present emotions like an open field. Seeing his guilt, rage and fear over her condition. She went back and prodded once more around his visit with his mother before rounding back to when he awoke on the manor floor. He elevated, for her review, several memories of he and Lyra as children. Being friends. Falling in love. He was making a point. She wasn't just anybody. Even after 10 years and thousands of miles, she would never be just anybody.

He'd never willingly shared his memories with anyone like this outside of Lyra, Severus and maybe his mother. On a normal day, he would kick, scream and throw as many iron walls between himself and the intruder as possible. Today was not a normal day. _Just take them_ , he thought.

The legilimens pulled back after a short time and promptly burst into tears. Draco's guards pushed angry hands into his shoulders as if he had lunged at her or committed some other uncouth offense. Draco looked up at her in confusion.

"No, no, stop! The legilimens implored to the guards. "I'm fine. It's these damn hormones, you know. "I'm so sorry," she said, falling into a fresh fit.

"Did...is it still there? Did you find anything?" Draco inquired urgently, suddenly terrified.

"No, I think not," she said between sniffles. "I feel confident that you don't have any compulsive thoughts to harm her."

"Shhh. It's ok," came a thin croaky whisper from the bed. It was Lyra. She was regarding the crying woman though half-lidded eyes and wrinkled her forehead in confusion, before looking over to Draco.

"Frog, why's she crying?" Lyra asked.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I dunno, sweetheart. I think it was something I said. She'll be alright though. Go back to sleep," he said gently, biting back his own tears.

"Ok. I won't tell Severus," Lyra said weakly before closing her eyes again and falling back under.

"I'm so embarrassed. I just...your memories, the situation. It's so sad. The emotional transference. I didn't expect it to be so intense," the legilimens explained softly, taking a tissue from Blaise.

"It's been an interesting day," Draco quipped dryly, trying to take some edge off of the 'emotional transference' that he provided to the poor woman, who probably just wanted to go home, drink tea and put her swollen feet up.

"I'll give my report to the head mediwizard of your ward, and to the Aurors of course. My conclusion is that there is no evidence of compulsion I can find anywhere in your mind at this time, regardless of proximity to the target...to Lyra," the witch corrected, finding the clinical nature of the word 'target' inappropriate for the situation given what she now knew.

"Thank you." Draco said.

The witch reached out to squeeze his shoulder, a fresh batch of tears quivering in her brown eyes. "You're quite welcome. All the best to you," she replied sincerely before stepping out.

* * *

Draco was led back to his room upstairs. An exhausted looking mediwizard came to see him, just after midnight, to discuss his clearance for release. They had already run their complete battery of diagnostic tests to verify the absence of compulsion. The legilimency added additional evidence that the curse had been lifted. The wizard offered him the further option of being questioned under Veritaserum, but since the curse hadn't been seen in about a millennium and predated the development of the truth potion, they couldn't be sure that it would even be effective. Some cases of compulsion allowed the compel to speak of it, some did not. Since Draco didn't remember, it was anybody's guess. He consented without hesitation.

The potion tingled as it went down. The mediwizard sat across from him in a chair, a self-correcting quill and parchment next to him, transcribing their session.

"Can you tell me your name and date of birth?" The wizard asked.

"Draco Malfoy, 5th June, 1980." He replied flatly.

"What are your parent's names?"

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"Do you have any children? If so, state their names and ages please."

"I have a son, Scorpius. He's 3 years old."

"Do you know a witch named Lyra Black?"

"Yes."

"How do you know her?"

"I studied occlemency and legilemency with her when we were children, from the time I was 11 until I was 16."

"Were you friendly?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" The mediwizard inquired, his self-writing quill screeching to a halt.

"We fought like a bin full of cats. But I loved her," he replied.

"Do you still love her?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes. More than ever."

"Do you have any desire to hurt or kill Miss Black?"

"No."

"Do you have any thoughts in your mind, voices, suggestions or feelings that she should be killed?"

"No."

"Do you have any desire to hurt or kill your son, Scorpius?"

"No."

"Do you have any thoughts in your mind, voices, suggestions, feelings, that he should be killed?"

"No."

"Do you love your son, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes. More than ever," he whispered, suddenly missing him acutely.

The wizard nodded his head. "Ok, I think we're done here. I'm going to recommend you be released."

"Do you know why I didn't die?" Draco asked the mediwizard.

He huffed. "I don't. The curse cut through the skin on your back and I imagine you'll scar like Mr. Potter did back when he..." He cleared his throat. "That aside, I don't think there will be any lasting effects. I'm sorry son, these curses, both the compulsion and the killing curse, we don't have a lot of practice with them. Either because we've never seen the curse, or we've never seen...survivors."

Draco nodded stiffly, flexing his shoulders, relishing the bite of pain that confirmed both the wizards words and his continued existence.

"Get some rest, Mr. Malfoy. I'll sign your discharge for the morning." The wizard stood to see himself out.

"Are you insane? I won't be sleeping for weeks, months maybe!" Draco blurted out, immediately looking embarrassed by the outburst.

The old mediwizard, turned back to him, a small smile on his face. "That Veritaserum should be out of your system in about 20 minutes. I'll tell the healers to give you some privacy until then."

"Thank the gods." Draco huffed out in complete honesty, because he literally had no choice.


	20. Chapter 20

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Friday**

Draco returned to his flat in London after his release from hospital that morning. He spoke with Shacklebolt before leaving who informed him that, since he would be required for questioning and eventual testimony, he would have to remain either in London or at his parent's home in Wiltshire. Clearly, he elected to stay in town. The old Auror also informed him that the trace on his magic would be reinstated, until the case was settled. This was protocol, apparently for anyone suspected of using an Unforgivable, which applied since he'd allegedly put his mother under Imperious.

When he'd asked again after Lyra, the man had only told her that she was awake and talking, but no more.

His flat was exactly as he'd left it, only covered in a thin layer of dust with a huge pile of newspapers and parchment lumped gracelessly inside his front door. Shortly after he arrived home, he received a passive aggressive owl from his mother asking to see him. _Well, I'm not going to Wiltshire, back to that hellhole. Plus, it's probably crawling with investigators, so she can come here_ , he thought, as he scribbled out a response to her, inviting her to dinner.

He spent the majority of his day spelling things clean, clearing clutter, going through month old letters and thinking about Lyra. He sent an owl to Astoria, asking to see his son as soon as feasible, since he'd been cleared from compulsion. He hoped she wouldn't make him wait long. He'd been away in Spain for two weeks prior to his father casting the spell, so he hadn't seen Scorpius in over six weeks and he missed him terribly.

His mother arrived an hour early, on her own time as always, with several shopping bags on her wrists from designer stores in both Diagon and SoHo. "How are you, my love?" She asked, kissing his cheek as he dutifully helped her with her things.

"I'm...I'm alright. Good to be home I guess." He replied tightly.

"Keep yourself busy, darling. If you don't you'll go mad." She advised, heading in to his kitchen to get herself a glass of wine.

"Have you seen Lyra?" He asked, hopeful for some news.

"I did, I just came from St. Mungo's, actually. She's awake, quite tired. Harry Potter and his wife Jenny were there with their two little ones. The older one, James, you should have heard the noise. I don't know how Lyra didn't shout him out of the room. Patience of a saint, that one." She mused.

"Ha. You should tell her that. She'd love it. It's Ginny, by the way." Draco replied.

"What's Ginny, dear?"

"Potter's wife. It's Ginny. She's the little Weasley girl that father gave a horcrux to my second year," Draco pointed out, bitterly.

"Oh dear. Well, she certainly has grown, hasn't she? Lovely little thing, round as a pumpkin right now." His mother replied, ever the master of denial and the expedient subject change.

Narcissa installed herself on the couch in his living room, and sipped on her wine. "I saw Blaise there also. It was so nice catching up. You know he and Katie broke up some time ago. I had no idea. If I didn't know better, and of course I know better, I'd say that he's rather taken with our Miss Black."

"She's not ours, Mother. WE nearly killed her." Draco bit out, settling with a thud on the other end of the couch.

"But we didn't," she let out in a hiss. "Lyra could have thrown me from the room today if she wanted to, but she didn't. She was happy to see me. Said she was glad I was alright and proud that I gave Harry a 'run for his money' during our fight. She's an incredible woman, Draco, truly. An excellent choice. Don't give her up."

Draco laughed harshly. "Are you taking those trendy mushroom tonics again? You sound absolutely mad right now! She'd be crazy to let me within a mile of her after what I did."

"You think so? She asked about you," his mother informed him.

"She did? What did she say? What did you say?" Draco inquired, anxiously.

"Oh you care what I say now? I thought I was just some mad old woman taking mushroom tonics," she replied, feigning offense.

"That's...Mother, I'm sorry. Tell me."

"She heard about the killing curse and wanted to make sure you weren't hurt. I told her that you were doing as well as could be expected and that you wanted to see her. She said she needed some time to recover but that she'd consider it." she replied.

"You did what?! Why?!" he exclaimed.

"Why what?!"

"Why did you say I wanted to see her?"

"You don't want to see her?" She questioned.

"Don't be absurd, of course I want to see her! But now she knows! And her response! That's just a polite way to tell someone's Mum that there's no sodding chance in hell of it ever happening!" He threw his hands up and sulked into the couch.

"Draco watch your language! You don't know that."

"Yes I do! I know her, Mother. Since forever. But regardless of that, it's just common knowledge."

"As if there was a best-practice manual for what to do after your father curses you to kill your true love. Draco, honestly, you're being so strange right now," she dismissed sipping her wine.

"Well, I'm sorry. I just nearly died, and all but killed my oldest friend after a month-long compulsion set upon me by my rat of a father. I also came within hours of trying to kill your grandson. I do apologize for not seeing the hope of romance there." He scowled.

His mother's expression softened immediately. She set her glass on the table and encroached on him, putting her arms around him. He resisted at first, but then melted into her.

"I'm sorry, darling. You're right. Whatever she needs. We are in her debt." She said, squeezing him tighter. "I love you, son." She said then kissed the top of his white-blonde head.

He knew his mother loved him. Felt it in his soul, but even still, she rarely came out and said it. The few times she did, it always made him feel uncomfortable. He felt the instinctive urge to play it off, but decided against it. Call it lingering sentimentality from his brush with death. "Love you too, Mum."

"Dinner?" His mother inquired, smiling.

"Sure, let's go out." He replied, helping her off the couch.

* * *

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Friday Evening**

"LYRA! LYRA!"

"Yes James! No need to shout. Auntie Lyra just had her bell good and rung. Let's everybody play the whisper game," Lyra responded to the boy, dropping her voice.

"What bell?" he inquired in a dramatic whisper.

"I mean my brain, kiddo. Hey! Do you think you and your dad could go to the tea shop upstairs and get your dear Auntie a cup of coffee? That would make my bell feel much better," she whispered back to him.

"DADDY! WE NEED TO GET AUNTIE LYRA SOME COFFEE FOR HER BELL!"

 _Well, it was worth a shot..._

"What are you on about?" Harry asked his eldest.

"I would give my right eyeball for a coffee, Harry. Do you mind?" She explained, letting her gaze wander over to James who was trying to pull a medical instrument of some kind off the wall.

"Ah. Yes. I think we can do that for you. Simple thanks will do, no need to be detaching eyeballs. James! Come on, son. Let's go upstairs." He collected the rambunctious little boy and corralled him out the door.

Lyra rested back into her pillows with a wary sigh.

"We should get going soon. I'd say you're about done there, meatloaf," Ginny observed.

"Did...did you just call me a meatloaf or am I having a stroke?" Lyra inquired.

Ginny laughed, setting Albus down on Lyra's lap. "It's nice to know that getting killed didn't affect your sense of comic timing.

Lyra smiled. Albus settled in, reaching up to play gently with her unbound hair, which had been carefully cleaned at her request. She'd awoken with it bloody and thrown up in a topknot, which had almost made her pass out again on its own.

"Did you hear what Mrs. Malfoy said before she left?" Lyra asked Ginny.

"What about the ferret? I did," she replied.

"Do you think I should see him?"

"Do you want to see him?" Ginny asked.

"No." Lyra spit out. "And yes...I don't know. I know that when I saw him at the manor, when I was trying to get him into the ballroom, it was harder than I expected to remain neutral. There was a point...he...he just surprised me is all. Confused me, I guess."

"Ok..." Ginny replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I kissed him," Lyra blurted out. "Not...not because I had to. Because I wanted to. I feel so weird about it," she explained.

"Ugh. Gross. You're too good for him," Ginny dismissed, rolling her eyes.

"Because he blew up your house?" Lyra quipped.

Ginny waved her off. "No, because he's a gutless little prat who doesn't deserve to lick the rain from your shoe," Ginny replied plainly.

"I see," Lyra responded.

"I don't blame Malfoy for blowing up my house, or scaring my boys. I blame his father. You know he did a similar kind of nasty to me when I was a girl," she said stiffly.

Lyra nodded.

"Made me do awful things. People were hurt," Ginny said, staring sadly at the wall. "Having someone else use your body as an instrument to hurt others, it's the worst kind of violation. Lucius Malfoy did it to me and I was nobody to him. What kind of soulless animal would do it to their own son? I dislike Draco on his own merit, but not because of this," the redhead explained.

"Gin. I'm so sorry for all the trouble this has caused you-" Lyra surprised herself, and Ginny by starting to cry. Albus was very concerned and looked up at Lyra saying "Oh-no!" before snuggling into her arm to comfort her.

Ginny walked over to sit on her bed, facing her. She grabbed one of Lyra's hands and squeezed it. "You didn't do this. Any of it. Harry and I let you stay knowing someone was after you. We knew there would be risks. Give us a little credit, eh?"

Lyra simply nodded and rested her cheek on Albus's dark hair, trying to control her sniffles.

"I mean, honestly, Lyra. You only died a little. No need to be so sentimental. Snap out of it," Ginny quipped.

"So true. Hardly died at all even. You're right," Lyra said back with a watery smile before wincing when Albus accidentally squeezed her on one of the cuts on her arm causing it to reopen.

"Ugh. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. They'll be able to heal these" Lyra remarked, shifting the little boy to her other arm, which was in a wrap from her fracture. "Being unconscious for a full day had it's advantages, though. They gave me Skele-Gro for this arm. Didn't feel a thing. It was amazing."

"Now, that's the spirit," Ginny replied.

"I mean, I don't know if I have brain damage or can still read or whatever, but at least there is that," Lyra added sarcastically.

"Eh, who needs it," Ginny replied, patting her hand.

They spent another few minutes chatting before Harry and James returned with the blessed coffee, which really did improve Lyra's headache. They visited for a little while longer before the Potters went home for the night. Lyra's favorite night mediwitch came to see her after and Lyra was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She absorbed just enough to take note that they wanted to monitor for a bit longer, heal her cuts, but if nothing changed, she would be eligible for release on Sunday evening.

Lyra knew that she would have to stay in England for the investigation and trial, despite almost every instinct in her body telling her to make a break for New York and never ever return. Where was she going to go? She didn't feel comfortable at the Leaky Cauldron because of what had happened. She didn't think going back to the Potter's would be wise. She was exhausted, having frequent headaches and didn't relish the thought of a screaming James Potter tearing around the house at 6am while her temples pounded. She'd talk to Kingsley. He'd know a nice quiet place for her to hole up. She knew one thing though, as soon as the Ministry allowed, she was out of here. Harry and Ginny would just have to come visit her in New York. _You are dead to me, England. Never again. No frigging way..._ she thought to herself, falling quickly into a potion induced sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Saturday**

A spell-damage Mediwizard visited Lyra in the morning to tend to her cuts now that she finally had enough blood in her body for the long healing spell. He was a kind, older man, probably in his early 60's, who chatted idly with Lyra while she endured the terrible itching of the repair process.

"We've seen this spell a lot since the second," he explained referring to the Second Wizarding War. "Lot of the anti-Ministry activists, kids mostly, fancy themselves dark heroes against the establishment, like old Snape himself. Most of 'em couldn't spell Sectumsempra if you gave 'em a copy of Ward's Magical Lexicon and a page number," he harumphed grumpily.

Lyra smiled. "I'm sure he would have just loved that."

"How much do they teach you Yanks about our history over there?" the wizard inquired.

"In school, not much. I had a broader education by virtue of being born here. I used to study under Professor Snape at Hogwarts a few times a year" she replied honestly.

"Did you? What do you think he would make of all this?" he asked, innocently, motioning to her injuries.

The question made Lyra pause. She had no idea what Severus would think. He would never tell her the truth, were he still alive. She also wouldn't be able to read it from him either. Once he had made her an ace legilimens, she had seen some things he intended to keep hidden from her and he handled it predictably by flatly proclaiming he had created a monster and banishing her from his mind. So, while she wouldn't editorialize his thoughts, she did, however, have a pretty good idea of what he would say to her about it...

"I think he'd probably ask me why I didn't just duck," Lyra replied, trying to ignore the aggravating itch.

The old man chuckled as he assessed the skin of one of her legs. "Well, dear, why didn't you just duck?"

"Poison. I wasn't really on my game," she answered.

"Ah. Quite right." The mediwizard answered, looking contrite. "The itching will let up over the next hour or so, but do be careful with the new skin for at least a day. It will be delicate," he counseled before awkwardly patting her foot and leaving the room.

Lyra found herself thinking about Severus as she chased her afternoon potions with a strong cup of bad coffee. She did wonder what he would think about this whole mess. Severus had cared for Draco, she was certain of it. He more or less killed someone for Draco. Not just someone. Albus Dumbledore, a great man and wizard. A man who Lyra owed for her happiness as she knew it. She had no memory of him but was aware that he and his brother had taken care of her for a time before she was placed with her own family. Dumbledore and Harry had been close, if she remembered correctly. She wondered if, when everything had quieted down, if he would be willing to talk to her about some of it.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the sudden, unannounced appearance of Astoria Nott in her room, a shopping bag around her wrist and her little son in tow.

"Oh, there you are! I've been wandering around this gloomy ward forever trying to find you," the woman exclaimed dramatically, setting her bag on the floor and dropping herself into a visitor's chair, pulling the boy into her lap. "How are you? You look terrible! I mean...Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's fine. I know," Lyra interrupted. "I'm alright, I suppose. I'm exhausted, having some headaches and the coffee is terrible, but all things considered, I could be much worse. How are you?" She asked, politely.

"Better now that we're all back home, thanks to you. I should have Theo buy you one of those muggle coffee machines. When are they letting you go?" The blonde woman inquired.

"They say tomorrow, provided I behave until then." Lyra replied.

An awkward silence descended upon them then. Lyra looked over at Scorpius who was idly playing with a diamond bracelet on his mother's wrist, turning it to make it flash under the harsh lights of the room. He looked so much like Draco, it was unreal.

"Look, Miss Black, I'm not very good at these things. I've lived through a war, but I have no idea what to do in this situation. I'm at a loss. My people typically show our thanks through gifts and favors. I...I don't have the words to explain how grateful I am for what you did for me and my son, so please, I am begging you. Just let me give you this pair of shoes I brought you and allow my husband buy you a silly muggle coffee maker," the witch said in a rush.

Lyra looked at her stunned for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. It felt like her first real laugh in weeks.

The blond witch across from her widened her eyes in surprise but then began to chuckle herself.

"In that case, I absolutely accept, and I'm so happy you're both home and safe," Lyra replied warmly, when she had regained her composure.

Astoria got up and placed her son at the end of Lyra's bed. She grabbed her shopping bag and brought her chair forward to sit next to Lyra. She pulled a red box out of the bag and opened it, revealing only a white leather pouch. From the pouch she produced a pair of black pumps in soft, buttery leather and placed them in Lyra's lap.

Lyra picked one up and emitted a half-gasp, half-squeal. "These are Spellman's! Are you serious!? Like charm into any color, any style, any size that I want. Like the 'only shoe you will ever need' shoe. Girl, you didn't get me one pair of shoes, you got me every pair of shoes! Don't take this the wrong way but I think I love you. These cost like three months rent! It's too much. I can't even..."

Astoria beamed warmly at Lyra as she babbled. "It's not too much," she interrupted before looking down at her son. "I don't think anything will ever be too much. Scorpius, come say hello to Miss Black. She's a friend of your Daddy's and she's the one who kept us so safe this week."

He looked up from toying with Lyra's blanket, blushing adorably. He clamored over Lyra's legs and reached out for his mother who settled him in her lap facing Lyra.

"Hi Scorpius, I'm Lyra. Thank you for coming to see me today. It was really nice of you," she said softly to the shy little boy.

Scorpius looked up at her with a half-smile that he took straight from Draco's face. "Hello. Mummy made me shop all day with her and it was for forever. Then I got a chocolate frog though. Then we came to see you and after this we get to go see Daddy. I got him a frog too because he likes them," he said to her in a whisper, as if his mother couldn't hear them.

"You're so right, Scorpius. He does like them. I'm sorry you had to shop for forever but I really REALLY love my present. It was so sweet of you and your mum to think of me," she whispered back to him. "Hey, do you want to see something cool?"

He nodded.

"What's your favorite color?" She asked.

The boy tilted his white-blonde head to the side for a moment to think before replying. "I dunno, blue I guess."

Lyra reached over for her wand and waved them over her new shoes, turning them a rich, shiny blue. She touched her wand to the toe of one of the shoes and a burst of bright silver scorpions scuttled out over the surface of the shoe, covering it at appropriate intervals. She repeated it on the other shoe and looked up at him.

"What do you think?"

He was thrilled. "Whoa! Do mine! Please! Please!" he implored.

"I would love to. Feet up, young man," she replied, smiling.

Astoria helped him put his feet next to Lyra on the bed and she spelled his little shoes as best as she could. Since his shoes weren't magical, the transfiguration would only last a few hours, but he thought it was great and squealed with laughter, trying to catch the little creatures as they ran across his toes.

"Do Mummies!" He said.

Lyra raised her eyebrows at Astoria who nodded her head and put her feet up also.

Once they all had blue, scorpion-covered shoes, Scorpius started asking her questions about trains. She explained to him that she didn't really know much about trains but thought they were neat. Scorpius had just launched into an overture about exactly how neat they were when Astoria notified him that it was time to go because they had to go see Draco.

"Can't Daddy come here? I have to tell Lyra about the trains. She doesn't know about the trains, Mummy," he explained. as if it were a kind of emergency situation.

"And she deserves to know, because trains are fantastic, but I'm afraid it will have to wait, darling," his mother replied to his adorable pout.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Scorpius. Have fun with your Dad and enjoy your frogs," Lyra said to him as Astoria was getting them ready to leave. "And thank you, Mrs. Nott for the thoughtful gift. They are amazing. I love them," she beamed at the blonde witch over her blue shoes.

"You're welcome. Please, call me Astoria," she replied.

"Call me Lyra, if you'd like," Lyra offered warmly.

"Get well soon, Lyra. Scorpius, say goodbye," the blonde witch said.

"Bye!" The little boy replied to her with a wave as they left.

Lyra laid back on her pillows with a dopey smile on her face and looked down at her new shoes. _Sweet kid_. She thought. _But oh my god these shoes..._

* * *

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Saturday**

"Daddy!" Scorpius yelled running into his father's arms. Draco caught him easily and brought him in close to his chest, burying his nose in his son's hair and inhaling the familiar scent of him. Although Draco was unable to remember the last five or so weeks of his life, he could feel the end of the long separation that he'd endured without him, as if his parental instincts remembered something that his cursed brain could not.

"Scorpius," he breathed into the little boy's hair. "I missed you so much. Tell me everything. Are you hungry?" Draco carried him into the kitchen, placing him atop the counter. The two of them talking as if not a single day had passed.

Astoria watched the pair with restrained fondness. She and Draco had been a disaster from the start, but their son was perfect and Draco was a completely devoted father. This thing with the American had made her feel territorial, not really because she felt some ownership over her ex-husband, that door had long closed, but because it made her feel like she'd been blindsided by this important part of his past that was impacting their present.

"Where did you get those! They're brilliant!" Draco asked his son, motioning to his blue, scorpion covered shoes.

Scorpius raised his foot proudly to give his father a better look. "Miss Lyra did them! She did Mummies too! Mummy show Daddy your shoes!"

Astoria walked into the kitchen and flashed her matching blue pumps. "We went to Mungos to look in on her just now. We brought her some very pretty shoes and so she made all of our shoes pretty too, didn't she darling?"

"Yep! Miss Lyra lives in the hospital because she's sick or something," Scorpius explained to his father.

"Yes I know, son." Draco replied sadly. "How is she?" He asked his ex-wife.

"She's, alright I suppose. Pale, tired, but she's improving. There's a chance they might release her tomorrow. Oh! I wanted to have Theo get her one of those things for coffee...the Muggle, Italian one. Do you know what they're called? I should ask Blaise."

"An espresso machine?" Draco offered.

"That's it, yes. She said the hospital had such bad coffee, I feel like it's the least I can do," Astoria explained.

"That's...that's really kind of you, Astoria. Thank you." Draco replied.

"We owe her. We all do," the blonde witch explained, looking at her son.

"And I'm going to teach her about the trains. She didn't know about trains, Daddy" Scorpius said to his father, sympathetically as if to say 'poor thing.'

"Oh goodness, well, you'll have to show her the ropes, then."

"What ropes?" The boy inquired.

"It's an expression, Scorpius. It means, you'll have to teach her about the trains," Draco clarified.

"Oh. Yeah, she doesn't know about the ropes then I guess," he confirmed.

Astoria chuckled at the exchange. "Ok, Mummy is leaving," she swooped in to hug her son and kiss him on the cheek. "You boys behave, I'll be back in the morning."

Draco pulled Scorpius off the counter and deposited him on the couch before seeing Astoria to the door.

"I don't even know how to begin apologizing for...everything. I know that if you hadn't started talking to the courts about me being absent, things could have turned out very differently. Thank you for that and for letting me see him and for...all of it. I know it must have been terrifying and all a bit of a shock" Draco bumbled at her, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Astoria rolled her eyes at him, which stopped his rambling immediately.

"You know. I really wanted to hate her. I tried. Yelled at her and everything. It just didn't take. How can you hate a woman who basically died for your son? She's...she's alright, Draco. A little plain maybe, but...I get it," Astoria confessed. She patted him on the arm and walked out the door, leaving Draco standing there with his mouth open in shock until Scorpius called him back to attention by asking for a snack.


	22. Chapter 22

**October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Sunday**

Lyra spent most of Sunday morning on the phone, reassuring Patrick that she was fine and talking her mother off a cliff. She acquiesced to having her father come out the following weekend and left him the task of restraining "Mama Bear," as Lyra called her mother whenever someone or thing dared threaten one of her cubs. She loved her mother and missed her terribly, but she didn't feel up to the task of marathon baking sessions or late night debates about which dog was cuter, Bex or Grandma's ancient spaniel, Frank. She craved instead the sarcastic pragmatism of her dad. He would remind her, like Ginny had, that she had really only been a little bit dead. The world wasn't disappearing from beneath her feet and she needed some damned perspective.

When Kingsley Shacklebolt came to see her, she picked his brain for places to stay while the investigation was underway.

"How long to these things typically take in Britain? Do you think I'll be home by the end of November," Lyra asked the old wizard.

He widened his eyes incredulously. Lyra didn't require an answer.

"Ok, very early December?" She asked hopefully.

"Maybe."

"Ugh. Come on! Can't I go home and come back?" She whined.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that here," he replied.

"Where am I going to stay for a month...at least?"

"Auror Zabini's family has a large estate and he's informed me that they are happy to take you in."

"Absolutely not. I just died, Kingsley. Why punish me further by making me take a forced vacation at _Chez Sexual Harassment_? His mother must be made of steel, poor woman," Lyra answered.

Shacklebolt laughed. "Actually, I think she might be the worst."

Lyra raised her eyebrows. "Huh. Impressive."

"Well, Graeme and I would love to have you, but our home is in ruins with renovations right now," he explained, looking guilty.

"Oh please. Harry told me. You two are brand new empty-nesters. You can call them renovations, but I know the truth. I'd never dream of taking up a room in your house that you and your man still needed to christen," Lyra fired at him with a wink.

The Auror cleared his throat awkwardly. Lyra loved it.

"It's fine. I can stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days until something presents itself. I could always try and get a place in No-maj land. Catch up on English TV and whatnot," she mused.

"Whatever are you talking about? Lyra dear, do you need somewhere to to stay?" A feminine voice rang out from the doorway. It was Narcissa Malfoy, making an entrance in a striking set of royal blue robes that made her pale hair pop brilliantly.

"You'll stay with me, of course, you silly sweet thing," she crooned.

"Hi, Mrs. Malfoy. How are you? You look lovely," Lyra got out before continuing automatically. "That's so nice of you, but I'd like to stay in town and, I mean no disrespect, it's a lovely house, but I really would prefer not to go back to the Manor for...a while."

"Well, of course not. I'm staying at the townhouse in London. You can stay there! It's close, we have a full retinue of elves and you can see Draco and Scorpius when they visit," she explained excitedly.

 _Oh gods. Get out of this, Black._ Lyra thought to herself. "Uh..." she began.

"Mrs. Malfoy, that's incredibly kind of you, but from a legal perspective, as there are several investigations ongoing right now, it might seem odd to have the two of you sharing a home," Kingsley provided.

"Oh, I suppose," Narcissa replied, deflating.

 _Phew, thanks for the save, Shacklebolt_ , she thought.

"I was actually thinking that I'd like to stay somewhere in Muggle London, anyway. More privacy, less fuss," Lyra explained.

"Oh! You can stay at the Savoy apartment! I won't be there, so there's no argument for collusion, it's not in the Malfoy name, and it's in Muggle London. Problem solved!" Narcissa proclaimed with a happy clap of her hands.

"No. Mrs. Malfoy, it's too nice. I can't," Lyra replied.

"Nonsense. When are you being released?" She asked.

"Um...today. This evening, I think," Lyra answered before turning to Shacklebolt. "Do you think it would be ok?" Lyra had loved that apartment and it did technically meet all the requirements.

"I don't see why not," he answered, sensing her excitement.

Lyra turned back to Draco's mother. "I don't know what to say. Thank you so much."

"As long as you need it. I'll phone Sam as soon as I am home and get it set up. We can reconnect it to the Floo network as well so you can come and go as you please" she replied warmly.

Lyra nodded. "I hate to ask you this, but I'd prefer for now that Draco not know I'm there," Lyra said, looking down at her hands and fussing with her thin hospital blanket.

"Of course, that makes sense, with everything you've been through," the blonde witch conceded, looking a little sad.

"Thank you," Lyra said softly, unable to look up. She needed the space, but she was rapidly growing tired of people always referring to 'the things that she'd been through.' Harry, Astoria, Kingsley, Mrs. Malfoy. It made her feel stupid. Weak. _Maybe I am_ , she thought.

They visited for a few minutes before Narcissa left. Shacklebolt told her he didn't expect her at the office until Thursday at the earliest. Lyra looked at him like he was insane.

"You're still healing. Take a few nights of sleep in a real bed. Eat too much food and then come back and we'll get going," he persisted.

 _Oh good, more patronizing,_ she quipped to herself _._

"There's also the matter of the press..." Shacklebolt explained.

"You said what now?" Lyra asked, suddenly getting nervous.

"Lucius Malfoy's arrest was a big deal, Lyra. The locals out in Wiltshire know something happened at the Manor. The Prophet's been posted at the Ministry, outside the hospital, and at the Malfoy's residences in town. All things considered, I think staying on the Muggle side is a wise move."

Lyra groaned. "What do they know?"

"As of right now? Nothing much. Lucius was arrested. Draco went missing. You know as well as I do that it could all change at the drop of a hat though," he cautioned. "The blood-purity crowd is already calling it a headhunt born of political correctness."

"You still have a blood-purity crowd? That sucks. Idiots. They have no idea," Lyra grumped, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Shit."

"Rest up. Keep your head down and don't worry about it...Until Thursday. At the earliest," he said, standing over her at her bedside.

"Ok, fine, mother hen. You ever coddle Severus like this?" She asked.

"As a matter of fact, occasionally I did, young lady. He, like you, never knew when to take a day off," he fired back, whacking her on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

"Hey! I'm injured, remember?!" She exclaimed, feigning offense and straightening her hair.

"Get some rest. If I see you at the Ministry before Thursday, I will lock you in a trunk." He said lightly, making for the door.

"Tyrant." She quipped.

"Americans." He murmured as he left the room.

* * *

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Sunday**

Draco led Astoria and Scorpius out the back landing of his flat, into the alley, to avoid the press.

"Why are we going this way, Daddy?" The little boy asked.

"Oh, just for something new. Can't do the same thing everyday, that's no fun," Draco explained, looking warily over to Astoria who rolled her eyes at him.

"This is outrageous. They were at the hospital yesterday afternoon too. What a nuisance," his ex-wife complained.

"Tell me about it. Scorpius and I had to get delivery last night."

"Daddy let me eat 3 crumble-crusts!" Scorpius exclaimed.

"Draco!" Astoria whacked him in the arm.

"Daddy also told Scorpius not to tell Mummy about those," Draco said down at his son in his arms.

"Oh yeah. I forgot. Sorry, Daddy," Scorpius replied.

"It's alright, son. Astoria, just make him do some laps around the dining room at Nott's. Merlin knows it's big enough."

"Ugh, Draco, just...no."

"Mummy. Can we go see Miss Lyra for pretty shoes?" The boy asked.

"Not today, sweetheart. Lyra isn't in hospital anymore. She got better, isn't that nice!"

"Yeah. Can we go to her house?" He continued.

"I don't know where it is. Maybe we can ask your Grandmother to do your shoes when you visit her tomorrow," she replied.

"That's ok. I'll just ask Miss Lyra next time. She does a pretty good job." Scorpius explained.

"I'm sure she would like that," Draco added, passing him off to Astoria. "I love you, son. Be good for your Mum and Theo. I'll see you Wednesday."

"Bye-bye, Daddy!"

"Be careful on your way to Diagon, yeah?" he said to his ex, looking around for reporters.

"I will. And you, stop fattening our son," she said pinning him with a hard stare before also looking around for stray ears. "Just use the floo to get around, forget those nutters," she said, surprisingly supportive, for her. It was becoming a thing. It made Draco uncomfortable.

"Will do. Thanks," he replied before turning back and heading back up the alley.


	23. Chapter 23

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Monday**

Draco went in to the Ministry on Monday morning for questioning and statements. They brought him back to the Auror's office and he spent every spare moment craning his neck trying to catch a glimpse of Lyra. When he was in a deposition room, he jumped at every opening of the door, hoping it would be her coming to question him, coming to scream obscenities at him. Anything.

He sat forward anxiously then as the door opened. It was the young blonde witch he'd seen in the ballroom the day he woke up.

"Mr. Malfoy, good morning. My name is Azalea Rossman, I'm an Auror. I was part of the team for the raid at your parent's home in Wiltshire on Thursday."

"I remember you," he replied curtly.

"Right. I've been looking over your file and statements thus far and everything seems pretty clear. I reviewed the report from Rowena Wormwood, the Legilimency specialist from MLE, and she noted having come across some memories and feelings of apprehension you had regarding your father. I'd like to discuss those," she explained.

"It wasn't apprehension. It was regular old fear. My father is a terrifying and unstable man. He also has the distinct advantage of being exceedingly well funded and has a world-class private archive at his disposal containing all manner of dark spells, including and not limited to ancient compulsion curses, apparently. So, yeah. It was really just fear," he replied honestly. His instincts told him to lie. To protect the family as he had been taught. It took him a great deal of mental muscle for him to tell the truth.

"I see. Have you ever spent time in the archives with him? Did he have any particular areas of interest?"

"Runes, I'd say. Especially after he left prison and had the trace placed permanently. He's not the kind of man who does well with restrictions. He's also, unfortunately, keenly intelligent. You could put a master of runes next to him in our library at the Manor and they'd be out of their depth within minutes."

"How much have you been told about the curse he used?" She asked.

"Just that it was predictably runic, Finnish, which the old man speaks. It was irreversible, transferable with a blind. Corrupted my memory...well that bit I know firsthand of course," he replied.

"Those are the essentials. We've had it translated in full, with the help of texts offered by your mother from your family library. It's a profoundly nasty thing. You can add sadism and mania to it like ingredients in a custard. It also doesn't appear to mask the victim to the compulsion, meaning you likely knew what you were being forced to do," she explained.

"Yeah, sounds like something he would like," Draco shrugged, looking away. "Has anybody asked her what happened? What I actually...what I said to her, how I poisoned her? Nobody's told me anything."

"The raid was quite a standard set up, really. We had your mother with us to remove some of your wards, shut off the floo. We wanted to force you to apparate. Your mum told us you'd apparate straight into your room, or maybe the kitchens. We planted Muggle listening devices in your room, the kitchens and around the north wing to be aware when you arrived. The team, but for Harry and Lyra, staged inside of an antechamber in the ballroom in the north wing. Lyra was tasked with leading you there. Harry was supposed to be hidden in the room to release us so we could take you into custody and try to find a way to break the compulsion. A lot of that was Lyra herself. She was adamant we bring you in alive unless you went after Scorpius," Rossman explained.

Draco felt sick.

"The plan was setup to make you believe that Lyra would be there alone. We had your mother...erm...kidnap her off the street in London to get you to follow her back to Wiltshire," Rossman looked up at him.

He shrugged again, unsurprised. "Yeah. That would probably do the trick."

"It did. It appears, however, that you apparated first into the kitchens in the south wing of the manor and came upon some of your elves chatting about Harry Potter being in the house, which sort of gave up the game. It's such an odd little thing to have overlooked," the witch said to him, looking off into the distance. "You went upstairs to cast the Imperius curse on your mother in the ladies room. You directed her to attack Harry if he left the sitting room, meaning Lyra was alone. She got you there, but he was late, fighting your mother. We couldn't help her..." Rossman looked down at her hands and sighed. "We heard her screaming and we couldn't.."

"Hey. You didn't do this, alright? You didn't fail her. I did. I...I killed her," Draco cut her off, unsure why he felt the need to comfort the witch. She was nobody, but he vividly remembered how she cried over Lyra and cradled her body, so she probably wasn't exclusively awful. Nevertheless, coddling strangers wasn't really his strong suit, so he elected to change the subject. "Do we know how I poisoned her?" He asked.

"Our best hypothesis now is that you overheard your mother ordering food from her sitting room. According to the recordings from the ballroom, when you told Lyra what you'd done, she seemed to know that you'd poisoned some brandy that had been brought for her," Rossman explained.

His stomach lurched. That told him a lot. One big thing in particular. He sighed. "I think I can confirm for you that I had at least some of my wits about me while I was compelled," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Lyra loves brandy, like my father does. My mother hates it. If, like you said, I knew Lyra was in the house, the only possible recipients of it would be her, my father or Potter. Essentially, my target or two other people who I, on a good day, would have no qualms about poisoning. As a strategic play, it's effective and low risk," he explained, nonplussed.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Man, she was right about you," she said looking down at her notes.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Lyra. She called you a cunning man who likes to win," she explained.

He shrugged, before recalling something important the blonde witch had said. "You said you have recordings from the ballroom?" He asked.

"Yes from the Muggle listening devices we planted in your bedroom and in the ballroom. It's...they're horrifying, but I think they'll be useful at trial at least," she clarified.

"I want to hear them," he said.

"I don't think that's wise, Mr. Malfoy."

"Bullocks. I want to hear them," he pressed.

"I'll have to talk to Harry and Auror Shacklebolt about it, but I really don't think it's a good idea," she replied.

"By all means. I'm not going anywhere," he fired at her, motioning at the door.

She rolled her eyes, but stood up and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Several minutes passed before Harry Potter, acclaimed wanker, entered the room holding a curious little black device with the blonde witch in tow.

"Malfoy," he clipped.

"Potter," Draco returned.

They sat in front of him.

"Auror Shacklebolt wants me to inform you that you are under absolutely no obligation to listen to these recordings. They're disturbing and violent and you are free to go at any time," Potter explained.

"Understood. Get on with it," he replied.

Rossman stood up and turned to Harry, "I'd rather not again, if you don't mind, Harry."

"Not at all, Rossman. You can go," he returned, ushering the witch from the room.

"I was hoping you'd want to hear them and I'm glad I get to be here," Potter spat at him with pure venom.

"Alright, Potter, enough about your feelings. Make the box talk or whatever," Draco hit back.

Potter turned the device on. He heard the noise of a shower that was suddenly turned off. He heard a door open and made the connection that this was probably his bedroom.

"Lyra?" He heard his own voice say.

"What do you want, Draco?" Her voice rang out from the box.

He listened to every word. Every breath she took. He'd kissed her. Told her she was beautiful and that beautiful things were made to be tortured. Heard her manipulate him skillfully out of his room.

Potter flipped some dials on the box and initiated a separate recording that he informed him was of the ballroom. He heard his voice urgently telling Lyra that he loved her. Heard him reveal what he'd done.

"I killed you an hour ago," his flat voice said.

He heard her cry out for Potter. Heard her try to free the Aurors. Heard the snap of her bone. Her screams. Heard himself cast the curse that slashed cuts into her beautiful skin. He heard himself torture her. Heard her scream for her mother. Heard her scream until her voice was gone. He heard himself sobbing.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!-" He heard in Harry Potters trademark pratty voice, followed by a hollow sound. His body hitting the ground. The recording went silent.

Draco thought he was going to vomit. He put a hand over his mouth just in case and looked up at Potter, who looked similarly ill. They sat in silence together for several minutes, color slowly returning to both of their faces.

"I...I'm not going to pursue any charges against you for what you did, Potter. I'm glad you did it. Wish you'd done it a little sooner, if you want to know," Draco choked out, once he'd recovered.

"Me too, Malfoy," Potter shot back harshly before allowing his facade to crumble a bit. "She's doing better. They released her from Mungo's yesterday. Shacklebolt's given her some time off.

Draco nodded.

"She's too good for you," Potter stated, without malice, just as a statement of facts.

"She is," Draco agreed. "She always was," he said quietly.

"How is your son?" Potter asked.

"He's fine. Thought his stay at the Ministry with the Aurors was a great adventure," Draco answered.

Harry nodded. "He seems like a good lad."

"He is. All Greengrass, that one," Draco replied, referring to Astoria. "How are yours? Ginny alright?"

"Yeah, doing well. Ginny wants the Ministry to bill you ten times over for the new foyer," Potter replied.

"Tell her I accept. Let her know that I live in a building with a mess of other flats, but if she can keep it small, she's welcome to come over and blow off my door," Draco offered.

"I will run that by her," Potter replied.

"I'd like to be off, unless you need me for anything else today," Draco said.

"No. You're free to go. We'll need you for a few things later in the week. I'll have Colin owl you."

"Right." Draco replied, standing and grabbing his jacket. He made his way out of the little room.

"Malfoy," Potter called. Stopping him. "Take the floo in the Auror's common. There's press in the atrium."

"Thanks," Draco replied.

He flooed back to his flat and immediately emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He laid down on the cool tile of his bathroom floor and let his head spin. He would never be able to unhear the sound of her screams, of her pain. Curse or no, he would never forgive himself and he would never be the same.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Monday**

Lyra rolled over lazily in the king-sized bed, snuggling deeper into the covers. It was afternoon. She should get up. _Why should I? Because you're an adult. Pfft. I'm an adult on post-being-murdered leave,_ she argued with herself. Her stomach growled. _When you're up, you get food. Food is good. I should get up._

She reluctantly extracted herself from the bed and padded across the light, airy room to the adjoining bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and decided to call that good, since she had no intention of straying more than six feet from the couch for the rest of the day. Sleep-food-sleep was the plan. She pulled on a pair of snug jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt to lounge around in.

She made her way to the stainless steel kitchen in the apartment and flipped the requisite switches on her new little machine to make coffee happen. She picked up the black phone next to the refrigerator that rang out immediately to Sam, the friendly doorman.

"Good afternoon. This is Sam, how can I help you?"

"Hey Sam! It's Lyra Black. I was wondering if I could have some food brought here," she asked.

"That's no problem, love. Let me transfer you to the hotel and they can make anything you'd like. I'll bring it up."

"Thank you, Sam!"

"Good day, Mrs. Black."

She ordered a truly inhuman amount of carbohydrates from room service and plunked herself down on the plushy couch in the living room with coffee in hand. She then switched on the TV, intending to make herself good and useless. She was having a pretty good day. So far, she had been headache-free.

She got though about half an episode of a show called MI-5, which was apparently about British No-Maj investigator dudes, when she heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of her beloved food. She jumped up and wandered over to the doors.

"Hang on, Sam, let me help you..."she called

Lyra froze when she saw Draco walk out of the elevator with a coffee in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He was holding his wand in between his teeth.

She took an alarmed step back, hand clutched to her chest.

He noticed her then, dropping his bag immediately and spitting his wand into his hand.

"Lyra?" He gasped, puzzled.

Lyra tried to make a noise, but she couldn't. She also tried to run, but she couldn't. Her body, in it's infinite wisdom, then decided that the most appropriate course of action would be to pass out. And so she passed out. _Fuck you, frog...you were supposed to be food,_ where the last thoughts she registered before her legs gave out.

* * *

 **Authors Note** : I've been dying to get the next few chapters polished and out. They're some of my favorites. Special thanks to Shhh. I'm an alien for the kind review. This is my first fic and I honestly didn't think anybody would read the thing, so the encouragement really means a lot to me. Happy reading, all! -MM


	24. Chapter 24

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Monday**

Draco had to get out of Wizarding London. He felt like hell with the guilt and rage pressing in on him from all sides. He had reporters outside his house, outside his mother's house. He couldn't very well wander into Knockturn Alley for a pint because they'd follow him there too. He refused to go to Wiltshire, to the Manor. He didn't want to be anywhere near where he had...where she had been...

He packed a bag, took some clever backwaters out into Muggle London, and hopped in a cab for the Savoy in Westminster. He and his mother had, for years, sporadically taken refuge in an apartment they had there when his father had been in one of his more insufferable moods. It was a small affair, only 2 bedrooms, but Narcissa had given him free reign to dress it up however he liked. In his case, that rather meant a dressing down. Light colors, exposed wood, modern art. It was plain, but it had been a sanctuary to him. To both of them.

He stopped by the hotel side first to grab a coffee before circling around back to the residences. He was greeted warmly there by Sam, the ancient doorman.

"Mr. Black, it's nice to see you. It's been too long."

"You alright Sam? How's your wife?" Draco asked, taking a fraction of a second to respond to his pseudonym.

"Oh she's quite well. We've a new little grandson now. She's up to Leeds helping our daughter get settled. You give that sly mother of yours our thanks for the flowers," Sam replied.

"Congratulations! I will do that," Draco said, stepping into the elevator.

"Oh, Mrs. Black just ordered some dinner. It should be along shortly. She's a lovely woman," Sam explained.

"Oh. Very good. Thanks, Sam." Draco replied, confused. He figured his mother would be at the townhouse. As the elevator ascended, he set his bag down to retrieve his wand so he could send Astoria a message by floo about his mother's being out of town. He stuck his wand between his teeth and grabbed his bag to exit the elevator into the apartment. _I doubt the floo is even still connected_ , he thought to himself.

"Hang on, Sam, let me help you..." he heard a distinctly non-English voice call out towards him.

He looked up to see Lyra frozen, about ten feet from him, her hand clutched to her chest.

He dropped his bag and spit his wand into his hand. "Lyra?"

Lyra made a choked little sound with her throat and then gave an inhuman jerk with her body as if she were trying to apparate without a wand.

Speaking of, he was quite glad that he had his wand as she fell towards the floor, unconscious. He caught her with a quick _Levicorpus_ before she went down and floated her over to the couch. He stared at her confused for several seconds. _Mother_ , he thought to himself. _Of course she would._

He retreated back to the kitchen to wait. He didn't want her to see him when she awoke, lest it cause a similar response. He'd make sure she was alright, then head to a hotel somewhere else in town.

"Draco?" She called weakly from the couch after a few minutes.

"I'm here," he replied.

"Where?"

"In the kitchen."

She sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. When she saw him, her shoulders tensed visibly and it made him do the same. He felt like they were two skiddish animals, who just happened to cross paths, accidentally terrifying each other.

"Did...did you catch me?" she asked, looking down at the couch confused.

"Levicorpus." He replied.

"Oh."

"Are you ok?" He asked tentatively.

"Nope," she replied immediately, staring off into space.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea you were here. I was just trying to get out of town for a while," He explained, not looking at her.

"Hey, I get it...obviously," she answered, moving slowly to get up. "I can go back to Diagon," she offered. She tried to stand, got dizzy and ended up plunking gracelessly back down to the sofa. "Just give me a minute," she sighed heavily, suddenly tired.

"Please. Don't. I want you to stay. I can go anywhere. Did mother connect the floo for you?" He asked.

"I'm not sure," She replied.

Just then the elevator doors opened again revealing an overburdened Sam, trying to balance far too many plates in his arms. Draco shed the blazer he wore over a navy v-neck t-shirt and went over to help set the plates on the island in the kitchen.

"Oh thank you, Sam. I think I got a little bit carried away. Are you hungry?" Lyra asked.

"No no. You two enjoy yourselves." He said, accepting a tip from Draco and retreating back towards the elevator. "If you're looking to take your pretty wife for a date, they've got some big name American singer playing the Ballroom tonight."

Draco paused but picked it up seamlessly. "Well, maybe if she behaves, and eats all of her dinner," he said looking over at her.

Lyra scowled at him from the couch.

"I'd look out, Mr. Black. Been taking lessons from your mother, that one. No better friend, no worse enemy is what they say."

"That they do, Sam. Thanks," he replied.

"Good day, Mr. Black, Mrs. Black," Sam called from the elevator before the doors closed.

"Bye, Sam," Lyra said, turning her head to hide the atomic blush in her cheeks.

"So...we got married, did we?" He asked her tentatively, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes we did, darling. And you took my name, because you're such an incredible feminist," she fired at him.

"Hmmm. That wasn't in the recordings," he replied.

"What recordings?" she asked.

"I was at the Ministry today. Potter played me the recordings from those little Muggle ears you put around at the manor."

"Oh," she said, looking away.

"Lyra...I..."

"Please don't," she said standing up suddenly to face him. "I can't take one more apology, one more look of concern, one more conversation with someone treating me like I'm made of glass." She paused and then rolled her eyes at the subtle adversarial tilting of his head. "And yes, Frog, I understand that is a strange request considering that I just passed out at the sight of you. Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything, Puk." He countered, amused that she knew exactly what he had been thinking.

"Oh my god, Draco, you never HAVE to say anything. Are you new here?" She exclaimed.

"Uh. I'd say that we are in some uncharted waters with all of this...so yes! Yes, I think I am new here," he replied, voice thick with snark.

"You killed me, you prick! You have to be nice to me!" She yelled at him.

"I was! I saved you from a concussion not five minutes ago!"

She screamed, actually screamed, in frustration.

"What do you want?!" He barked back at her.

"I don't know!" She roared.

"No. Do better. What do you want?!" He said to her roughly.

"Arghhhh! I want to watch MI-5 and I want my pancakes and I want you to come here right now!" Her voice broke and she sobbed the last word, petulantly stomping her foot like a little kid. Not her finest hour of adulting, to be sure.

His expression went from anger to concern instantly and he moved with inhuman speed across the room to pull her into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and wailed. He wrapped one of his hands in her long black hair and rubbed the base of her skull until she cried herself quiet.

* * *

Lyra was vaguely aware that he moved her to the couch at some point, never letting her go. She was cradled tightly in his embrace, her cheek snuggled into his chest, just beneath his collarbone. He smelled like sandalwood and the salt from her tears. She had her arm laid on top of his with one of her hands curled tightly in the sleeve of his shirt.

She pulled back so that she could look up at him. He looked down at her, flexing a hand that he'd placed on her hip. The sensation felt electric to Lyra and she had to harness a monk-like discipline not to push instinctively into his touch. She furrowed her brow at him.

"What is it?" He questioned softly.

"Do you really think I have lines around my eyes?" She asked, referring back to something he'd said to her while he was cursed and trying to kill her.

He laughed. Lyra had to work hard not to break, but she maintained her look of offense.

"No, sweetheart. I think you're perfect. It would take a sadistic, homicidal compulsion for me to ever utter such an insidious falsehood."

"Oh. Well...that's good I guess," she mused.

He ran his thumb up and down her forehead to smooth her brow. "Stop doing that though or you'll get some."

Lyra slapped at his hands and scrambled off his lap, missing his warmth immediately. She walked over to the kitchen to retrieve her much longed for pancakes and heard Draco turn the TV on behind her.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"MI-5. Your idea." He replied.

"Ah. You hungry?" She asked.

"What do you have?"

"Ummm...pancakes, spaghetti, mixed fruit, a bowl of Weetabix and 2 brownies," she answered, taking stock of her smorgasbord.

"Good gods, Lyra," he replied.

"Be nice to me," she grumbled.

He snorted. "A brownie please, my unwrinkled, fake wife."

She snorted and walked over to him, shoving the plate in his lap.

They sat and watched terrible British crime fiction until after the sun went down, stuffing themselves with room service. They didn't say much to each other, but both of them were keenly aware of the presence of the other person in the room. They watched each other move about the space; looked for the other when one was up grabbing coffee or away to the restroom.

"How's Scorpius?" Lyra asked him after a particularly boring episode that signaled the end of the stretch before the regular prime-time programming was scheduled to start.

"He's doing well. He loved that transfiguration you did on his shoes. Keeps asking when you can do it again," he replied.

She chuckled. "He's a cutie. I'll Scorpify his shoes whenever he wants. Oh! Speaking of, did you know that Astoria bought me a pair of Spellman's! Me! They're so nice, definitely too nice. If I had any sense I'd sell them and pay my rent. But I don't have any sense and they're mine-mine-mine," she chirped happily.

Draco smiled. "She told me that she likes you, despite her best efforts not to," Draco told her hesitantly.

"Yeah, well, you're her baby-daddy, and I'm a random Ex she'd never heard of. She had to at least try to hate me, on principle. I expected it. Plus, in her defense, she was having a real shit day. She's alright. Seems like a good Mom," Lyra replied.

"She is," Draco confirmed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel like, if anything, this whole mess has made our relationship better, not worse. Astoria knows me to be a rubbish husband, because I was to her. But she has a lot of faith in me as a father, and I'm very thankful for that.

"Look at you, Draco Malfoy. Well-balanced adult and stuff, appreciating the subtle nuance of unconventional relationships. Color me impressed," she quipped, popping a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

"What about you? Why aren't you married with a carriage full of sprogs?" He asked, relishing how natural, how almost normal their conversation felt.

"Ugh. That was too British, even for you," she teased. "I don't know, actually. I date, but I keep finding reasons to just...not. Plus my skillset puts me in rather high demand at MCUSA, and I'm busy as hell most of the time. Most Americans don't do legilimency so good," she snarked. "I mean, if I am free, and I get lonely I can rush out to find a body no problem, but then when the sun rises, all I want to do is escape. There's always something. Too aggressive, too nice, too smooth. New York men. Maybe that's the issue," she shrugged.

"Lyra Black, workaholic, casual sex fiend and breaker of hearts. Color me impressed," he teased back.

She smirked. "And kids? Dude, I am a kid. Plus, I'm worried that I'll end up with one who's like me and we would just stand around a messy kitchen all day trying to boss each other around. I can do that with my own subconscious, thanks."

"Come on. I think that would be brilliant," he replied.

"Haha. No," Lyra clipped. She yawned suddenly, which reminded her of her 'day plan' that had gotten a little bit derailed. If she was going to get this thing back on track, she needed go back to sleep like a lazy bum.

"You should get some rest. I'll get going," Draco said, standing.

 _No. Stay._ She thought.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "I can find somewhere else."

"Absolutely not. You improve the place. You will stay," he said warmly to her. She blushed.

"Speaking of. You did this didn't you?" She asked.

"I don't understand,' he replied.

"This apartment. You designed it. It reminds me of your bedroom at the Manor," she explained, looking around.

"I did, yeah."

"I like it,' she offered.

"Thanks, so do I. It's yours as long as you need it," he said.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He went to the kitchen to grab his things and throw his jacket back on. She walked him to the elevator. "I'm sorry for yelling at you before," she blurted out, embarrassed.

He smiled down at her. "You're here and you're alive and my son is alive. I would listen to you imitate troll mating calls for hours at full pitch just to be in the same room with you," he replied, surprising her with a kiss on her cheek as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside leaving her speechless on the landing. "Goodnight, Lyra," he said to her as the doors shut.

She paced back and forth in front of the elevator, feeling him get farther away from her. She hated it. It pulled at her stomach and made her itch. _No. Don't be a needy little baby. Plus, this guy killed you, Black. Is that your kink now? Oh come on, he only killed you a little bit, and he was compelled. Plus, the curse made him to that because he loves you. What's the weakness here? Going after a man who loves you, or letting a man who loves you leave because you're afraid of the message it sends? Aggggh! I don't know!_ She smashed her finger into the elevator call button.

As she descended, she went back and forth, hoping she caught him versus hoping she missed him. What was she doing? When the elevator doors opened, she was stunned to find Draco standing in the foyer, waiting to go back up.

"The floo..." "Stay." They said to each other simultaneously.

"Oh." Lyra said, turning red as a beet.

Draco stepped into the elevator next to her, hitting the button for the apartment.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking over at her, a surprised expression on his face.

"I am," she replied with faux confidence, not looking at him. "I mean, it'd be a waste of space to have all to myself. Plus it's yours so..."

"Right," Draco replied.

"Yeah," Lyra said back before clearing her throat awkwardly as they ascended.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- I want to remind everybody, because it happened so many chapters ago, that Narcissa told Sam at the Savoy that Lyra was her daughter in law. That's the origin of all the fake-wife stuff. I think it's cute. Happy reading! -MM


	25. Chapter 25

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Monday evening**

Draco spent a few minutes muttering incantations in front of the fireplace to reconnect the floo.

 _Well this is real awkward_ , Lyra thought to herself.

"I'm going to bed now," she announced to him as he worked.

He nodded. "Let me run into your room and grab some of my night clothes," he said standing and moving down the hallway.

"I can always move rooms. I didn't know it was yours," she replied.

"No, you're settled. I'll sleep in my mother's room," he said, pulling some things from the stocked closet.

"Ok, goodnight then."

"Goodnight," he said walking out of the room.

Lyra retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed. _I immediately regret this decision_ , she quipped internally. _It's fine. Everything's fine. Don't make it weird. Why did you say 'stay?' Why not something less desperate? Hey, you're ok I guess, you can stay here if you want. Zero chill. And now you look like a moron._

She finished getting ready for bed and flopped forlornly into the amazing, large bed. Much to her surprise, she was able to fall into a deep sleep with little effort on her part.

* * *

Lyra awoke in the dark, after an uncertain amount of time, and trudged reluctantly off to the bathroom to use the toilet. She was about to contentedly pitch herself back into bed when she heard a strangled sob come from the direction of the living room.

Her heart absolutely sank at the noise. She knew what it was. She'd been having them too. The night before it could have been her, crying out for Harry, screaming for Draco to stop. She stood frozen at the side of her bed, unsure of what to do. In the event of one of her own recent nightmares being witnessed, what would she want? Would she want someone to wake her or let her keep dreaming?

She was mulling it over, trying to be logical in her approach, when she heard another weak cry from the living room followed by her name. She was out the door and down the hall in seconds.

He was stretched out on the couch in his pajamas, the TV illuminating him in the darkness. He looked uncomfortable. He had one hand gripping the pillow under his head and the other in a white knuckle twist in the fabric of his shirt at his stomach. His face was contorted in distress and he had sweat shining across his forehead. He let out a soft moan and she called his name gently to see if it would wake him.

When it didn't work, she kneeled down on the floor beside the couch, her face level with his at a respectable distance. She stole a deep breath and reached out to grab his shoulder. When her hand made contact with his body, he twitched violently. She shook him gently and called his name. He trembled once more before emitting a grumble and slowly opening his eyes.

"Hey. You...you were having bad dream." She whispered to him.

He blinked several times and frowned at her.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he whispered back.

"It's ok. I was up. I...I have them too, sometimes." She admitted.

His frown deepened.

"Stop moping." She quipped.

"I'm reflecting, not moping." He quipped back.

"Go to bed. You look ridiculous on this thing," she said motioning to the couch.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," He said, trying not to focus on the neckline of her nightdress or how beautiful the creamy yellow looked next to her skin in the low light.

"Are you deaf? Don't make me repeat myself. Up with you." She clapped him hard on the shoulder.

He pulled himself to his feet sleepily and followed her down the hallway before she turned and shoved him unceremoniously into his mother's room.

"Go," she said in a bossy tone. "I reserve the right to hex you from across the hallway if you start bellyaching in your sleep again," she quipped before retreating into her room, leaving the door ajar.

"Well, blimey, that's thoughtful of you." He said sarcastically, pitching himself into the large unused bed.

"Well, you know I'm a giver that way," she yelled across to him, climbing in under her own covers. "Go to sleep, Frog."

"Goodnight, Lyra."

She was asleep within minutes, her breaths falling even and deep. Draco couldn't sleep initially, his mind spinning with the events of the endless day. He crept to her door to look at her, regarding the gentle waves of her long dark hair around her shoulders and the slow rise and fall of her chest. The nightmares weren't the only thing making him avoid falling back asleep. He wanted to watch her, make sure she was safe, make sure she was real. After a few moments, he felt guilty for his behavior. _You stalked this woman for fucks sake. Like you need to be peeking in on her while she sleeps, you sick bastard,_ he thought. He commanded himself back across the hallway to lie down, but didn't find much rest there.

* * *

Lyra woke gently, the daylight of midmorning streaming through the window. She yawned. _Oh man, that feels good_ , she thought, referring to the notion that she'd slept harder last night than she had in days. She was about to jump contentedly out of her bed and her nightgown to have a little morning naked time when she froze, remembering that she was no longer alone in the apartment.

"Draco?" She called out.

The only response was the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom connected to the other bedroom. She decided on a shower for herself, then made the executive decision to try and look like a real person today, complete with trademark high heels and war paint.

She took her time and entered the kitchen wearing a structured black dress under a black overcoat with glimmering silver buttons. Her hair was in a sleek, low bun off to one side and she had gone with simple black eyeliner and traditional red lips. She had on her new shoes, spelled to perfectly match the color of her skin. The overall effect made her legs look incredibly long and slender.

Draco had to remember to breathe when he saw her. She could be in a velour jumpsuit from TopShop and still be lovely, but this was different. This was her making a point, probably to herself, that she was in control. She looked achingly beautiful to him.

"Espresso?" She asked.

"Sorry, what?" He said, snapping out of his reverie.

"Would you like an espresso?" she repeated.

"Yeah, that'd be great." He replied, rubbing his neck.

"So what are you up to today?" She asked him noncommittally as she fussed with the coffee-maker.

"I have an errand to run for my Mother on Oxford street and then I was going to go over to the Tate for a stroll."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but...do you have a job, kiddo?" Lyra inquired, her back to him.

He snorted. "I do. A very important job. Several, actually. Appear idle and useless to make the plebeians jealous, show up on request to all of my Mother's philanthropic functions, and watch while the interest accumulates in my accounts over at Gringott's and Barclay's," he informed her, unironically and without defensiveness.

"Ah," she replied. "What was it that made the Malfoy's rich in the first place? I feel like you've told me before but I don't remember," she mused.

"Dragon trade," he replied. "All of it's so over-regulated now, most everything was sold off to governments three, four generations ago," he continued.

"But you're still one of the most wealthy wizarding families in Europe," she said, the question implied.

"We invest wisely," he shrugged. "Leaves us time to study obscure runes, go to brothels, and meddle in national politics."

She laughed, setting an espresso down in front of him. "Well thank goodness for that."

He smiled. "Come with me, today. That is, if you're willing to miss an hour of MI-5," he rushed out, taking a chance.

"An entire hour, are you nuts?!" She fired at him before smiling wide. "I would love to go to the Tate, actually. I didn't know you liked modern art so much."

"I didn't back then. I got into it after..." he trailed off.

"Well, your taste is exquisite," she said, motioning to the examples around the living room. "I love the blues."

"Me too," he replied.

They took a black cab to Oxford street where Draco ushered her inside an opulent jewelry store. Harry Winston, to be exact. "A New York based jeweler? Draco, I'm appalled!" She quipped, passing in front of him as he held the door for her.

"Well, you see, New Yorkers are the only people tacky enough to set stones the size my family can afford," he replied.

"Tool," she fired at him.

"Peasant," he shot back.

Draco left her to browse while he met his man in the back to collect whatever his mother had sent him for. Lyra meandered slowly in between the glass cases which were filled with gorgeous gems of every imaginable color. When it came to romantic gifts, flowers be damned, she was a jewelry girl through and through. She was also almost always single, and didn't make enough money to justify buying them for herself very often. Truth be told, most of the fine things that she owned were gifts she'd gotten from Draco when they were young. Diamond earrings, a beautiful snake bangle with sapphire eyes, a delicate pendant made of dragon scale.

"You look in a trance," Draco said coming up behind her. "See something you like?"

"I like everything," she sighed.

"Pick something out. You've...how do you put it...had a shit week," he said down at her with a little smile.

"No. You and the rest of the haute-bourgeoisie need to stop buying me presents. It'll make me lazy. I need to work for my shinies," she replied.

"Well, sweetheart, you did practically die last week. Maybe you're good for awhile?" He said with a wary huff.

"Hmm..." she drawled, looking up at him slyly. "Ok. I do want something."

"Anything," he said to her, seriously.

"I want you to buy something nice for Ginny Potter," she told him.

He narrowed his eyes. "What? No! I'm not buying jewelry for the Weaslette!" he replied in a harsh whisper.

"But it's what I want," she said with a little pout.

"Yeah, but I meant for you," he whined.

"It IS for me. I love Ginny, I'm too poor to get her anything this nice and, AND you blew up her house!" She argued.

"Oh come on. I didn't mean to blow up her house. Do I have to do this?" He carried on.

"No. You don't have to do anything. I just think it would be so nice and it would mean a lot to me," she explained.

He pursed his lips and rolled his pale eyes. "Sod it. Fine. How about that," he said pointing at an opulent ruby necklace.

"Ugh, Draco, no. It's rubies! She's a redhead. It'll make her look like a fancy tomato. Come on, do this right. She's a lovely young redhead with freckles. You need emeralds or aquamarine or something yellow," she said, leading him towards the correct section of the store.

They looked around until Draco pointed out a pair of earrings that had warm yellow topaz studs, connected to rich emerald drops in a pear shape. They were unique, not impractically large and would make Ginny look like a queen.

"Perfect. She'll love those. Good eye, Frog," she said to him in encouragement.

He grumbled something unintelligible at her but stopped when she squeezed his arm reassuringly. He motioned for the attendant to have them wrapped and Lyra excitedly jotted down Ginny's address for delivery.

They left, piling into another cab, and headed off to the Tate to take in the art.

* * *

 **The Tate** \- Tate Modern - gallery of international modern art in central London. Amazeballs, if you're ever in the area.


	26. Chapter 26

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Tuesday**

Lyra rushed excitedly back into the apartment to stand in front of one of the blue paintings on the wall in the living room. Draco trailed in behind her and smiled at her giddiness.

"I thought I recognized the style. You know I have a print at home in my bedroom of one of his at the MOMA in New York. Mount Fugi and Flowers. I love it. He just gets me," she waxed wistfully.

He chuckled at her. "Are you hungry? Should we order more obscene amounts of room service and see what the intrepid men of Her Majesty's Intelligence Service are up to?" he said, motioning at the TV."

Lyra pursed her lips. "I'm thinking no. Let's go somewhere."

"What would you like? I can have reservations made anywhere," he replied.

"No reservations. There's an Indian place down the side street that smells like heaven and looks like it's about a million degrees inside. Let's go there. I'd change shirts, if I were you," she said turning her back for one more look at the Hockney on the wall.

Draco did take a moment to change into something a little lighter than the open collared black suit he'd worn all day, opting for tailored gray trousers and a long sleeved black henley.

Lyra strolled back into the living room wearing a flowing, empire-waisted dress in crimson that stopped at the knees and had only delicate zig-zagging strings covering the honeyed skin of her upper back. It left a generous portion of her chest exposed and showcased her slim, toned shoulders.

Draco needed to put his long jacket on...immediately, so he did. He then helped Lyra into her coat, allowing his eyes to linger longingly on the lovely expanse of her neck and back revealed by the dress.

Lyra had been right about the restaurant. It was a bloody inferno inside. It was about the size of one of the smaller closets at the Manor and was packed with people. It was also decorated aggressively with fake marigolds and absolutely booming with noise. Lyra elbowed her way skillfully into a corner table and ordered for them. He had no idea what he was about to eat. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The tea that was brought was decent, but sweet enough to put him in a coma. It was followed by two bowls of an unidentifiable soup looking substance that Lyra called 'curry,' hers red, his yellow, accompanied by a basket of puffed bread.

He opened his mouth to complain. Every bone in his aristocratic body told him to make a fuss. He wouldn't eat it, but then he glanced over at his companion with her adorable little mouth stuffed, looking at him expectantly, and he knew he'd already lost.

He took a deep breath, ripped off a piece of bread with his hands, like a savage, and dipped it into the...whatever, before popping it into his mouth, preparing for the worst.

He looked down at his bowl as he chewed, shocked. It was brilliant. Creamy and spicy and the bread was so savory. "Fucking hell," he said down in wonder at his plate. He heard the sweet trill of Lyra's laugh from across the table and looked up at her. She had her chin in hand, elbow on the table and was regarding him fondly.

"I knew you'd like it," she said, smiling.

"Like it? I'm sorry, Mrs. Black, but I found a new fake wife to replace you and it's that amazing old man in the back who made this," he quipped.

"I'm sure he'll be so thrilled," Lyra fired back, reaching across to dip a piece of bread into his bowl and pop it in her mouth.

Draco tried hers as well, but it was too spicy. "You're a mild kind of guy, trust me," Lyra informed him, patting his arm.

"Has Shacklebolt told you how long you'll have to stay?" Draco asked, changing the subject.

"He says maybe as long as December," she answered with a frown. "I've only been here for like what, two weeks? I feel like I've aged a decade though, and I'm so homesick. My Dad's coming out on Friday. Mom wanted to come, but I just couldn't, you know? Well, YOU know."

"Ah yes. How is the formidable Marla Black? Still force-feeding everyone she meets?" He asked.

Lyra snorted. "She's good. What time is it there? Two PM. I'm sure she's either doing a free shift at the hospital or is elbow deep in dough for crumble-crusts."

"Scorpius loves those. He ate three the other night. I wasn't even mad. I was impressed," Draco replied.

Lyra laughed full on. "They would get along great, I bet. Can you imagine?"

Draco smiled. She looked so lovely. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" He asked.

"I was going to floo over to Harry's. He'll be at work, of course, but I want to help Ginny with the kids. She's super pregnant right now and James, her eldest, runs on some kind of inexhaustible dark energy, I swear to you. I don't know how she keeps from losing her mind," Lyra told him.

"Would you mind if I brought Scorpius over to the apartment in the evening? He'd like to see you," Draco asked.

"Of course! Draco, it's your apartment. Please," she said, waiving her hand at him before stuffing her mouth with the last of her bread.

"No, sweetheart. It's yours until...whenever. Forever if you want it. I..." He stopped himself. She had asked him yesterday not to get into it. He didn't want to upset her.

Lyra eyed him warily. "Draco. I know you want to talk about...everything. I know it's selfish of me to ask you not to and I'm sorry for that, but I don't even know how to begin. Where to begin..." she trailed off, looking to the side at the other couples enjoying their food. She hoped none of them were trying to navigate the fallout from a compelled attempted murder, steeped with obsession...and love. It was kind of the worst. She sighed heavily.

"It's fine, Lyra. I can't imagine..." he began.

"But you can, though. Because this happened to both of us," she said sadly, not meeting his eyes. "I've never been compelled before, so I can't relate to that bit but if you want someone to talk to, you should talk to Ginny. Not only has she been the victim of compulsion before, but she's been the victim of compulsion because of your father. She still struggles with it," Lyra said hesitantly, not sure if she had said too much. "She doesn't like you, per se, but she doesn't blame you for what happened." She paused, reaching forward to grab one of his large hands with her small one. "And neither do I." She paused. "I'm not ok with everything. Not by a long shot, but I do know that," she said with conviction, her golden eyes boring into his silver ones.

He didn't know what to say so he laced his long fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her index finger soothingly. He heard her breath catch in her throat. She was staring at his hand with what he instantly recognized as longing. He knew that she had always loved his hands. She inhaled nervously and pulled away, turning to the waiter to ask for the check, which she insisted on paying, despite his best efforts.

They walked back to the apartment slowly, allowing the chill in the November air to refresh them after the swampy clime of the restaurant. Lyra stunned him as they strolled by performing one of her signature moves that he had all but forgotten. She absentmindedly placed her hand on the back of his elbow as they chatted and slid her arm down the back of his forearm to grab his hand. She must have, in all of their time together, done this to him a hundred times. Tonight though, under the London streetlights, it felt like the first time. The nerves in his arm lit up like dragon fire and he had no choice. He pulled her into his body by the hand that she gave him, took her cheek in his other hand and kissed her.

She tasted sweet, like Indian tea, with just a hint of salt on her upper lip. She made a shocked little noise in the back of her throat before falling into him, pushing up on to her toes to wind her arms around his neck. He pressed into her lower back with his palm, relishing the warmth of her little frame against his body. She opened her mouth wider to allow their tongues to meet and they lapped softly at each other as strangers passed by them on the sidewalk. Draco didn't care. London could have burned to ash around him and he wouldn't have noticed.

She pulled back after a time with a shaky gasp, allowing her arms to release his neck as she hesitantly moved her palms to trace the front of his jacket. He opened his eyes slowly, afraid of what her expression would tell him. She'd responded to the kiss, clearly, but he knew her...she could go one of several ways. Guilt, surging passion or paralyzed overanalysis. When he finally looked at her, he was a little concerned to see all of those things at once warring for dominance across her face. _Give her a second, accept however she responds. Deserve her_ , He told himself.

"Lyra," he said, voice edged with worry after about half a minute.

"Take me home, Draco," she whispered up at him, her features softening, eyes glinting with desire.

He blinked hard and pulled back in surprise. "Yes. Right," he said, as he turned her in the direction of the hotel and grabbed her hand, pulling her along at a quick pace. "Come along, Puk. Keep up, won't you?"

She laughed at him brightly, but moved her feet quickly in the direction of the Savoy, her entire body buzzing with excitement.

* * *

Author's Note - Thank you to Shhhh. I'm an alien and Shell8bee for your kind reviews, I love them so! Also, heads up, the next chapter is going to be very M rated. I'm working to ensure that the smutty scenes contain practically no plot. So, if the smut is not your thing, don't worry. I'll put up a warning at the beginning of my next chapters and please just skip right over them. Happy reading! -MM


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note - Smut. Pretty much start to finish. Reader beware...or enjoy. Whatever you're into :) -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Tuesday Night**

They made it to the private foyer in record time and piled into the elevator with rushed greetings to Sam. As soon as the doors shut, Lyra pulled him into her and sealed her lips to his. He responded by backing her into the corner of the car, pinning her against the wall with his weight. He reached a hand up to cradle her chin and directed her head to the side to begin working down the smooth column of her throat with his mouth. Lyra arched her whole body into his and breathed out a sweet, airy moan that had Draco unconsciously pressing into her with his hips.

The elevator doors opened and they danced together into the apartment, ripping jackets off one another, almost frantic in their need to touch. They ended up in the living room and Lyra had an idea. She broke herself away reluctantly from a deep kiss and pulled back to look at him.

"Do you want to read me?" She said with hooded eyes. "Just the right now stuff?"

He swallowed hard.

"You scared?" She taunted playfully, biting her lip.

"No I...I just don't want to point my wand at you if I don't have to." He explained honestly. _Deserve her_...

Her expression softened immediately. She brushed her hand across his forehead to smooth away some hair that had fallen into his eyes. "I'm sorry." She whispered, feeling bad for the impulsive request. "Can I just show you instead?"

His eyes darkened a shade and he fixed her with an intense gaze before giving her a nod.

She led him to the couch and pushed him into a seat. She remained standing above him, his head at the level of her waist. She reached out for him, burying her hands in his hair, letting the silky strands slip through her fingers as she massaged through to his scalp.

He gave a satisfied huff and leaned forward to rest his head on her stomach, his cheek pressed into the thin, silky fabric of her dress. He reached around and placed his hands on the back of her legs, just above the knees. Her hands traveled down, rubbing tension out of his neck and upper shoulders.

After a time, her hands stilled and she simply held him for a few moments. When she shifted uncomfortably on her feet, Draco pulled back, dropping his hands from her legs and looked up at her evenly. She braced her hands on his shoulders and stepped out of her shoes, pushing them aside with her foot. She reached out for one of his hands, which he gave her without hesitation. She then guided it under the hem of her dress and placed it on the inside curve of her upper thigh. He swallowed hard and she noticed the quickening of his breath.

"First time, young man? I know that's not true." She whispered, sliding his hand higher over her smooth skin towards the apex of her thighs.

He said nothing, but she saw the flash of a challenge cross his face. He reached out suddenly with his unoccupied hand and grabbed the back of her other leg hard, pulling her in closer to him. She gasped, then smiled shyly. She dropped her hand from over his and let him take control.

He slid his hand higher on her thigh, at a tortuously slow pace until he encountered the lace of her panties. He used a finger to trace back and forth across the edge before drawing a line down towards her center to rub the outside of her sex. He began making slow circles on her through the fabric, feeling her plump outer lips move aside for him, letting the lacy cloth make contact with the sensitive skin underneath. Lyra tipped her head back and sighed. Reaching out for him, she landed a hand on his shoulder for balance.

As he continued his long assault, he felt her wetness bleed through the barrier of her underwear and christen his fingertips. He gave a throaty chuckle and looked up at her flushed face. "First time, young lady? I know that's not true." He quipped.

She pinched her eyebrows together in frustration and called to him breathily. "Take them off, baby. Please." She said, digging her fingers into his shoulder.

Well...he wasn't going to say no to that. He ran both hands up her tan legs, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down. White lace. _Very wet, white lace,_ he smirked to himself. He brought his hands back up to her and wasted no time in rubbing deep into her smooth, bare flesh. She moaned in relief. His skilled fingers playing nimbly over her dripping sex. Her hand on him migrated to the back of his neck where she began scratching her nails through the fine hairs at his neck. Everything about her felt so good to him that he thought he could come just from doing this. Well...maybe not, but he'd be glad to die on that hill giving it an honest shot.

Lyra began moving her hips in little circles to augment his actions. She had a beautiful flush on her cheeks that spread down her chest to disappear under the neckline of her dress. He leaned back and she followed him dutifully. There was no chance she'd be letting him go now. He reached his free hand up to mark a trail from her collarbone, down between her breasts. He could see the outline of her nipples straining against the fabric so he reached for one, rolling it gently between his fingers. The effect on her was devastating. She bucked her hips hard, nearly dislodging him from between her thighs, gave a full throaty moan and Draco felt a fresh onslaught of moisture from her core begin to drip sinfully down his wrist.

She reached up behind her neck and grabbed the string that held up the top of her dress, pulling out the knot. The airy fabric cascaded down, stopping at her waist but, revealing her chest to him. Her breasts were small but firm and marked by the most delicious pink nipples he'd ever seen. They hadn't changed at all. He reached up and ran his free hand over one of them, marveling at the way she pressed herself into his touch.

She sighed gently and abruptly stepped back from him all together. He sat there shocked by her retreat, his hands in his lap, one glistening from her arousal. She looked at him darkly before launching herself into his arms. She mounted him, wrapping her legs around his waist which sent her skirt bunching around her hips. She could feel the textured fabric of his shirt rubbing against her breasts and the sensation was a welcome tease.

He found her mouth with his and captured her in a frenzied kiss. He leaned further back into the couch pulling her with him. He could feel the heat from her through the fabric of his trousers and the sensation sent him grinding into her, his clothed erection teasing her exposed center. She moaned and dragged her hands out of his hair to fumble with his belt and zipper. She made quick work of it and pulled him out.

He was so long. And heavy. She'd forgotten. Ok, That was bullshit. She hadn't forgotten. She loved it. She pumped him a few times and then pressed up against him with her groin, placing him in between her outer folds and moving her hips to slide him through her flesh, coating him with her juices. The action earned her a string of invective curse words from her lover beneath her and she sighed heavily, relishing the sensation of his hard cock teasing her clit and being so close to where she wanted him. She grabbed behind his neck for purchase and reached down for him before elevating her hips and guiding him into her body.

She was holding her breath. They both were. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought her forehead to his, staying still a moment to savor the momentary burn and delicious fullness of having another person inside her. He was iron stiff, but so warm and smooth. He hadn't changed at all. She caught her breath and pulled back to look at him, smiling at his flushed face and stunned expression.

He was unprepared for the feeling of being inside her again. Feeling her warm, silky heat surround him . Smelling her skin, her arousal. Feeling her wetness bathe him completely and drip down into the curls at the base of his cock. No. He was definitely unprepared. He forgot how to breathe. He felt an electric jolt through his body when she gently nuzzled her nose into the space behind his ear.

"Breathe." She commanded in a husky voice. "You're no good to me dead." She said before pulling back for a gentle, slightly shaky kiss.

Lyra rocked her hips against his experimentally.

"Gods, Lyra. You feel incredible. So good," he groaned, dropping his head back onto the couch.

She set a middling pace, retreating then returning like the tide, to crash into him. Her body was telling her to ride him hard but she wanted to take her time, not that she expected to last very long. She wanted to savor this. She'd only get to break their long separation, feel him again for the first time once. She wanted it burned into her memory.

He supported her lower back with his hands and encouraged her to bend her back away from him so he could reach her breasts with his tongue. He lavished attention on her nipples, drawing ever more needy and desperate sounds from her as she writhed above. He could feel her pussy tightening around him. She was getting close. _Thank Merlin_. He was done for soon.

"Draco?" she breathed lifting herself up and bringing them back together grinding herself on him slowly.

"What, love? What do you need? I'll give you anything you want." He admitted, pulling her close. _That was too much. Too honest,_ he thought to himself.

She let out a soft whine at the sweetness of the his words before responding. "Take me to bed."

He lifted them instantly, his hands under her ass and moved them down the hallway to the bedroom, never leaving her body.

He set her down on the bed, reluctantly pulling out of her with a hiss. She removed her dress quickly and laid back looking up at him dazed.

"Off," she said motioning at his clothes.

He shed them with purpose and stared down at her. She was sprawled out like a goddess beneath him; hair loose, chest heaving, cheeks flushed with life. His eyes traveled down to her sex, glistening and pink, begging for him to return to her. He couldn't take it. He fell on her like the rain, going everywhere at once. He gave her a short but deep kiss before sliding back inside her.

He set a faster pace that would have both of them losing their minds in minutes, maybe sooner. Lyra was wild beneath him, raising her hips to meet each push, grabbing at his shoulders, his hair. He thought he had it together acceptably well until she started talking to him. Then he was finished.

"Oh my god, baby. Please. Don't stop." She cooed. "It's so good. I need you. I need you. I need…

 _Dammit. She's too perfect. Too sweet. I can't..._

"Lyra, I'm gonna come. What do you want? Where..." He whispered urgently.

"Inside me. Inside me. Oh god Draco." She babbled, mindlessly.

His brain exploded. He buried his face in the side of her neck and moaned deliriously as he pumped his release into her. He felt her contract around him, pulling him further into her body.

As she came, she instinctively angled her hips up towards him to savor the warm rush that spread deeper inside her with every pulse of his cock. She pulled at his waist to bring him in closer and let her cries fill the room shamelessly, her vision swimming with stars.

He collapsed down onto her in the aftermath, his head tucked into the crook of her neck, sweat gluing them together. Lyra was running her hands up and down his back softly to soothe him. They spent several blissful minutes breathing together, still connected. He lifted his upper body off her, balancing on his elbows and looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

"I…" he paused to think. "We're doing it again later." He he said, resolutely before he collapsed back down onto her. He enjoyed the shiver of vibration that her subsequent peel of laughter sent through their joined bodies.

"Was that not good enough for you, Frog?" She asked, running a hand through his hair in a manner that made him purr.

"You're not falsely modest, and neither am I. It was bloody amazing and you know it. For the rest of my life I want only to be sleeping, eating or fucking you...and I'm happy to multitask some of those things." He mumbled into her shoulder, matter of factly.

"So, what do you want to do now? Eat or sleep?"

"Mmmm...sleep." He said, nuzzling in to her.

"Can we amend your list to include bathroom time?" She inquired.

"Consequence of the eating, impedes the fucking. So I suppose we can."

"How about now?" She asked, with a smile in her voice.

He grumbled but reluctantly pulled out of her with a sigh and helped her up, ushering her into the bathroom with a kiss on her forehead.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note - More smut. Sorry, couldn't help myself. Hang in there, non-smut readers, we'll be back on to plot next chapter! -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Wednesday Morning**

Draco woke from a deep sleep, reaching for her immediately, and found himself alone in the large bed. The clock on the nightstand told him it was half past two in the morning.

 _Shit_ , he thought. He was worried that she had run, regretting what they'd done. The thought made his stomach churn. Maybe he should have stopped her. Pushed back. It was too soon, too much. He flashed back through images of her working above him, throwing her head back, calling his name. He didn't regret it. He couldn't. She was magnificent. The years had made her more skilled, more assertive. She was still her, all frantic passion and grabbing hands, but now she seemed more willing to take what she wanted from him. It was irresistible. He wanted to give her everything, and watching her come undone was a quasi-religious experience.

He got up, shaking the grogginess from his head, and trudged over to his closet to pull on some boxers. He padded out to to the living room and found her on a stool in front of one of the side windows, wrapped loosely in a sheet tucked under her arms. Her hair was effortlessly mussed in that perfect way that only sex can achieve. Her lovely tan legs, peeking out from the sheet, were tucked into the side of the stool. She had an apple in one of her hands and Draco could hear muffled noises coming from outside the window she gazed through.

He approached her slowly, unsure of what to say. He came up behind her and brought his hands loosely onto her waist, letting his chest brush her back.

She jumped initially at the the contact but then pushed back into him. Without looking up, she lifted her apple above her head to offer it to him. He circled her little wrist with his hand and brought the fruit to his mouth, taking a bite.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" He asked, in between chews of the tart apple.

"Couldn't sleep," she grunted softly. "Came out here for a snack, but then I got distracted by Tommy and Joanna here," she explained absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Tommy and Joanna," she said pointing out the window.

He looked out the window to see two people, a man and a woman, shouting at each other on the street below. "I see," he said reservedly.

"Well. It would appear that Joanna is upset with Tommy because all he cares about is his his job and making partner at the firm," Lyra said, as if she was explaining a movie plot.

"YOU'RE NEVER HOME!" Draco heard 'Joanna' scream out to the man across from her on the sidewalk.

"WHY WOULD I WANT TO BE! ALL YOU DO IS COMPLAIN!" 'Tommy' fired back.

"Tommy seems like a dick. He's drunk," Lyra mused.

"Mmm-hmm," Draco replied, wrapping his arms fully around his little witch, nuzzling the top of her messy hair with his chin and looking out to watch the handsome young couple implode across the street.

"WELL I SLEPT WITH DANIEL!" Joanna shouted at her mate, who moved to brace himself against the facade of the ornate plaster building they were arguing in front of.

"Oh shit!" Lyra said, in genuine shock.

"That's not good," Draco agreed.

They watched the couple argue quietly for a few more minutes and then miraculously embrace and start kissing furiously on the sidewalk.

"Whaaaaaaaat?! No way!" Lyra exclaimed, her voice muffled by apple pieces.

"Joanna must be a smooth talker," Draco postulated.

"Huh. Maybe," Lyra replied, turning on the stool and allowing her sheet to slip from under her arms to her waist, which would've exposed her breasts to him, but her long dark hair obscured them from his view.

She grabbed one of his hands and shoved her half eaten apple into it carelessly, leaving him looking nonplussed. His expression changed quickly, however, when she began using her small palms to trail over his chest and the planes of his stomach as he stood in front of her.

She leaned in and started pressing soft kisses into the skin of his upper abdomen as one of her hands scratched gently in the trail of hair just below his belly button. He hissed at the sensation and leaned into her touch.

"Mmmm," she moaned as she sucked a little mark into his flesh. "Is it later yet?" She inquired.

"Huh?" He questioned, in a daze.

She stood up, letting the sheet fall away from her body and pool at her feet. She took his free hand and lifted it under the fall of her hair to cover one of her breasts, commanding the heel of his palm to circle around her tightening nipple.

"It is exactly as later as it needs to be for you to let me keep doing that forever," he said, staring down at her hotly.

She blushed, but smiled at him wickedly. Tossing the apple aside, he lifted her up over his shoulder, causing her to squeal adorably. He carried her over to the large oak dining table, where he deposited her gently on the edge. He kept his hands planted firmly on her ass and used them to pull her hips flush with his before bending down to kiss her. She tipped back, bracing herself on the table, encouraging him to lean over her so she could feel more of his body.

He released one hand to reach around in front of her and part her swollen folds with his fingers. He coated two of his fingers in her slippery wetness before sliding them inside her causing her to fall onto her back and eagerly arch up towards him. He pumped his digits into her slowly at first, just watching her respond. She was so alive under his touch, so gorgeous. He freed his other hand from behind her back and brought his thumb to her clit to circle it at a slow but persistent speed, giving her just enough to drive her crazy, but not enough to make her come. She begged him for more and started contorting her hips for more access to his hands.

She looked down towards him at the foot of the table and saw him smirk knowingly at her writhing form. He would edge her for days just to watch her go insane. _That smug bastard_ , she quipped to herself.

"I want you. Please, baby," she whined with a pout, flexing the muscles of her core to grip his fingers. She knew him. All she had to do is ask and he would give her whatever she wanted. Right now, she wanted him inside her. She sat up to paw at his boxers, lowering them just below his ass, to free him.

His composure shattered as he grabbed her hips forcefully with both hands and pushed into her without preamble. She leaned back on her elbows and allowed her head to fall back, moaning deeply at the feeling.

After several minor readjustments, Lyra found herself sprawled atop the table on her back, her legs resting lazily on Draco's chest as he stood off the end with his hands biting into the flesh of her thighs. The pace of his thrusts was punishing against her sensitive, over-stimulated skin. He grabbed her ankles, at the level of his ears and spread her legs into a wide V, opening her up to him. She regarded him as he watched the point of their union with rapt intensity. _Boys are stupid_ , she thought to herself, rolling her eyes playfully.

"What does it look like?" She said with a devious smile.

He groaned at her question, tossing his head back briefly before looking back down and driving hard into her with his hips.

"It looks like I'm disappearing into you. Like you pull me inside and wrap me in everything that's perfect. And it feels...gods it feels so fucking amazing. Like you were built to make me lose my mind," he whispered hoarsely to her.

She bit her lip and hummed a little moan. _Ok, damn. That was a pretty good answer_ , she quipped internally. She freed herself from his grasp and wrapped her legs around his waist using her calves to pull him into her deep and fast. She guided his hands to her breasts and he leaned over her to capture her mouth with his. He reached one hand up to tangle it in her hair and gently pulled her head to the side to put his mouth near her ear.

"I want to feel you come around me, sweetheart. You feel so good. Come for me." He trailed his free hand down to her clit and pressed, seeking to push her over the edge. She gripped his shoulder desperately, encouraging him to continue.

"I'll do it if…unghhh" she trailed off into a heated moan

"If what?" He said with a smirk, maintaining the pistoning of his hips and the work of his fingers.

"I want...mmm...I want you...come on her." She breathed.

"Oh yeah?" He said, elated that he was responsible for her present state, but also thrilled at the prospect of her being so dirty for him.

"Aren't you a naughty little thing," he teased, punctuating his words with hard thrusts that made her howl. "Say it, out loud, tell me where you want it, love," he whispered darkly into her ear.

"On...oh god…" she threw her head back. "On my pussy, baby. I want to watch" she said, rolling her hips up to his sinuously, seeking more contact with his body.

 _Merlin...that's hot. Wait. Her first. Her first. Her first_ …he thought.

He plucked a little faster the bundle of nerves he'd been teasing and felt her body tense around him, signaling the start of her climax. He gave one final strong thrust with his hips to finish her and worked her through her release with his fingers only, so he could enjoy the feeling of her tight sheath pulsating around his cock, sucking on him like a hot little mouth.

She remained largely silent during her orgasm, holding her breath. At the apex of her pleasure, she let out an almost pained wail and started to shake before falling limp on the table beneath him. He laid his body back on top of hers, kissing gently on her neck, waiting patiently for her to recover.

"Ow." she said softly.

He pulled back immediately to look at her, concerned. "Ow? Did I hurt you?"

She smiled lazily, raising a weak hand to cup his cheek. "No no no." she cooed. "It was just hard. So good." She breathed pulling him down for a kiss.

"I can't...I can't move." She said in lazy satisfaction against his lips.

"Do you still want me to...you know?" He inquired.

She bit her lip and blushed up at him before giving an embarrassed little nod.

He started moving inside her again, rock hard after watching (and feeling) her come for him. She panted tiny little breaths as his cock stroked her relaxed, tender passage.

"More." She whispered to him.

 _I can do that_ , he thought to himself, slamming into her with a groan. He was close. He fucked deep into her several more times before pulling out and taking himself in his hand. She lifted up on an elbow and used her off hand to spread herself open for him. He worked himself in slow pumps, angling it at her pink flesh. "Lyra" he breathed at her as the first spray of his come landed on her sweet inner lips.

"Fuck, baby." She moaned, wriggling her hips as she watched spurts of warm white cover her sex, hand and lower abdomen.

"Holy shit." he said, exhausted as he used his clean hand to brace himself on the edge of the table, completely spent, staring in awe at her marked skin.

Lyra wasn't having it, she was on fire. She ran her hand through what he'd put on her body, gathering it on her fingertips and running it through her folds, using it as extra lubrication, which she didn't need. She reached for his hand and pulled it to her, encouraging him to put his fingers inside her. Together they rubbed his release into her skin until she was a quivering mess once again. When she came, her muscles constricted so hard around Draco's fingers that he was concerned that this one really did hurt. Afterwards, she reached for him shakily and he pulled her up leading her towards the bathroom for a shower.


	29. Chapter 29

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Wednesday**

Lyra was weak as a kitten in their shower. She let Draco take control and he was more than happy to wash every inch of her body for her, following the trail of the washcloth with soft kisses all over her skin. She perked up enough to return the favor, including a very thorough cleaning of his package that left him bracing himself on the tile next to her head.

She guided him under the spray and stepped behind him so she could devote some attention to his ass...er back. She slid the cloth slowly across his lower back before traveling up his spine.

He heard her breath catch in her throat and he knew that she'd noticed the scar in between his shoulders.

Lyra froze for a moment, her eyes fixed on the broken diagonal line laid across his upper back. It seemed like a shallow break in the skin, but the surrounding flesh looked red and agitated, as if it was trying to reject the dark magic that caused the wound. Lyra raised her fingers to gently stroke one of his shoulder blades.

"Is that from...?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Does it hurt?" She asked.

"Sometimes," he answered.

"Can they heal it?"

"No."

"Oh," she replied sadly.

Lyra leaned in and pressed her lips softly to the scar, causing Draco to hiss in surprise.

"Did you feel that too?" he asked, referring to the fact that when she made contact with his cursed skin, his back prickled with energy.

"I think so. Felt like bubbles," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

"Do...do you wanna talk about it?" She asked hesitantly.

He covered her palms on his stomach with his hands. "I thought you didn't want to," he replied.

"I don't feel like talking, but I can listen," she answered, feeling uncomfortable.

"I think I'll wait until we can do it together," he replied with a slight edge to his voice that Lyra didn't miss.

"Frog, it's not a pissing contest for stoicism. I don't want to play 20 questions, but I don't want you to feel like you're alone either," she retorted bluntly.

He dropped his head to look at their entwined hands. He raised one of her palms to his mouth to kiss it, pulling Lyra's chest tighter into his back in the process. "I don't feel alone." He breathed deeply, afraid to say more but unable to stop himself. "I'm...I feel...happy. Is that crazy?" He said softly.

"Maybe? But I'm certainly no authority." Lyra said into his back.

He chuckled. "I also feel tired," he added with a yawn.

"And that makes me feel very smug indeed, Mr. Malfoy," she quipped in a perfect High British accent.

"Ooh, you know I love it when you do that," he joked. "It's like I can close my eyes and pretend you're not American."

"Roight, them sodding Yanks 'fink they're so great, yeh?" She quipped, going full Cockney. "Ooh needs 'em, wiv their sunshine and flavorful food?"

"No, not that. Please," he replied, appalled.

They finished and dried off before returning to her... or rather Draco's room together. They laid side by side, neither making the first move to touch the other.

She suddenly felt nervous. Not, because she was afraid of him...well, she was afraid of him but not really because he'd been brainwashed to kill her recently. She was afraid to reach for him. He made no motion to come towards her and she knew she should make the first move if she wanted a snuggle. To be honest, Lyra desperately wanted a snuggle...because...reasons.

He was on his back staring at the ceiling. She turned on her side to face him and reached out to wrap her hand around his forearm. He looked over to her and she pulled on him to get him to move his arm over his head, opening a space for her. She scooted over to him, pressing her body into his side and rested her head on his chest. She threw her arm over his waist and nestled deeply in to him.

He brought his arms around her then, holding her close. She felt his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. She hooked a leg around his, and enjoyed the contrast between the smoothness of her bare leg and the coarseness of the hair on his. They laid awake together for a bit, making minute adjustments to accommodate the comfort of the other person. She squeezed her arm around him to bring him closer, he began running his hand over her naked shoulder: They didn't speak. After awhile, the combination of his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body lulled her to sleep. He soon followed and the remainder of the night passed quietly for them both.

* * *

Lyra woke naked and alone. _Ah, just like my early 20s_ , she joked to herself. To be honest, she kind of missed those days. She didn't miss the fumbling or the inexperience, but she missed when the hookups were expected, but the feelings were light.

 _Which clearly doesn't apply in this case_ , she counseled herself in reprimand. "This is Draco and he loves you," she heard in Blaise's baritone voice. Turning onto her side, she grumbled internally.

She found herself thinking back on how their relationship ended. It wasn't some huge argument that did it, they always made up after those. No, their separation was unsurprising, boring even. They spent an amazing few days together between the sheets in the winter before the war broke out in earnest. The day she left, Draco kissed her adoringly, put her on a plane and abruptly stopped speaking to her.

Now, she could have forgiven that easily, what with a war happening, but she'd received a devastating letter from Severus not long before his death, saying dispassionately that Draco had met somebody. Somebody rich like him and appropriately British - things that she knew really mattered to his family, regardless of him loving her. Severus wrote that he'd likely be married shortly after the end of the war, provided everybody lived.

Lyra was crushed by the news, although she knew even then that she shouldn't have been. She was angry at him but she was mostly afraid he might die. And when Severus did die, she was devastated. She lashed out at her family, her typically stellar grades at school suffered and she lost about 15 pounds from her already slight frame. Her parents made her go to a No-maj specialist to 'talk.' She, in her infinite teenage wisdom, thought it was bullshit.

The experience ended up being formative for her. Lyra had several epiphanies about life and relationships in the time she spent seeing her insightful therapist. First of all, she learned that the singular pain of heartbreak is universal. It is the same awful that falls on the witch and the No-maj alike. It sucks for everybody. She found a strange solidarity in that.

Secondly, she grappled with the notion that, despite all of the things she loved about him, a person who can disregard you because you're from the wrong side of the sea and a comparative peasant is probably a poor choice for sustained happiness in the long run. Draco was who he was. An aristocrat with constraints and responsibilities she didn't have or believe in. Some things you just couldn't fight though or argue around.

The situation had also started her thinking about what she really wanted in a partner. As a 16 year old, she thought she knew. She wanted Draco. He made her laugh, made her scream in all the good ways, took her breath away with his passion. As she matured, she changed her mind. What she really wanted was a work horse. She had learned, from her parents mostly, that relationships that last do so because people commit to them everyday.

She didn't need diamonds (although she wouldn't turn them down either), she didn't need achingly beautiful smiles or platinum blonde hair. She needed somebody willing to try hard for her that would let her do the same in return. Learning that lesson had been her key to letting him go. Not of everything, but she was able to laugh again, feel again and keep looking for someone to sweat through life with. Although she'd been burned harshly, the years had dampened the hurt and left her with some scars and a story of first love that was sweet and sad...just like everybody else's. She'd made peace with it and she was happy and hopeful.

Needless to say, recent developments had...complicated things. They were clearly still attracted to each other. That was no problem. Thanks to the nature of the compulsion and what she had learned from Blaise, Lyra knew that Draco loved her. That was nice and all, but he'd loved her before and it didn't keep him from crushing her. If he was the same person he had been back then, it just wasn't enough.

She felt...guilty maybe? No. Well...yeah. She felt guilty, confused and nervous. They'd both just been deeply traumatized and she ended up naked with him a paltry week later. _What kind of person does that? That's...not healthy. But he felt so good..._

Thinking back on the events of the evening made her heart race and her skin prickle with need. She wanted some air and some time to consider the implications of what it all meant. Despite their history, Lyra had no desire to hurt him. She knew that both potential pathways, namely pursuing it or disentangling from it, each carried their own heavy risks. She was at a loss.

Lyra was snapped abruptly back to reality when she glanced lazily over to the clock which informed her it was almost noon. _Agh! Ginny! I was supposed to be there 2 hours ago!_ She lept out of bed, deciding last night's shower would have to do and hopped into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a ratty old Ilvermorny sweatshirt with 'Pukwudgie' displayed in cracked, maroon letters down the arm. She brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a topknot (the cute kind, not the hospital kind) and bounded into the kitchen for an espresso before she left.

She wasn't paying attention and ran dead on into a messy haired Draco wearing nothing but gray cloth pants and an amused smile as she squeaked, jumping back from him.

"In a hurry, Puk?"

"You!" she said, poking a finger into his sternum. "Why didn't you wake me up!? I'm late!" She whined.

"I didn't know." He replied. "Here, breakfast," he said ushering her into a seat where pancakes and coffee were already waiting for her.

She made a pleased little sound and began stuffing her face without restraint.

"Merlin, Lyra. You're like a Niffler in a jewelry store," he judged, leaning over on the back of her chair and pressing a soft kiss to her temple, which made her heart race, partly because she loved it and partly because she felt so weird for loving it.

"More like a Lyra in a pancake store," she said with her mouth full, wiggling away from him. "What time is Scorpius coming?" she asked, hoping to keep the mood as uncharged as possible.

"I'm getting him from Nott's at five," he answered, stealing a strawberry from her plate as she played at stabbing him with her fork.

"Ok, cool. I'll be back by like six. Hey, so what's up with that guy, anyway?"

"What guy?" He asked.

"Nott. Big. Burly. Brown hair. Quiet type. Is that all he does or does he speak full sentences as well?" Lyra asked, gulping her coffee.

Draco snorted. "He's definitely the type of bloke you don't want to cross, that's for sure."

"Ah," Lyra retorted flatly.

"I dunno. He's alright. We went to school together. He was just normal. Seems to love Astoria a lot. Puts up with her bullshit," Draco continued.

Lyra smacked him on the arm.

"What?!" He exclaimed.

"She bought me shoes, which is covenant in The Girl Code. It means she and I are bros now. Be nice," she warned.

"What will you do for me if I buy you shoes?" He asked, suggestively.

"Make you wear them and call me Sir," she twittered up at him sweetly before draining her coffee cup.

He just shrugged, which made Lyra burst with laughter as she stood and made her way to the Floo.

"Ok, back at six. Do you want me to grab anything while I'm in town?" She asked.

"No. We can order in," Draco replied before grabbing her by the waist and nuzzling into the sensitive space behind her ear. "I'll miss you," he breathed, which...Ok, in Lyra's defense...half naked, gorgeous British man murmuring seductive nothings that way, would curl the toes of almost any woman, and many men. She tipped her head back and pressed into him a touch before disentangling herself and grabbing a handful of Floo powder.

Draco furrowed his brow but guided her into the fireplace with his hand on her back. She turned to face him and smiled awkwardly before throwing the powder and calling out for Grimmauld Place.

"Shit," Draco said to the empty living room when he was alone again.

Seconds later, Lyra stepped out of the fireplace into Ginny and Harry's kitchen.

"Shit," she muttered to herself.

"MOM AUNTIE LYRA'S HERE FINALLY AND SHE SAID A NAUGHTY WORD!" James bellowed from behind the long dining room table.

 _Oh for fucks sake_ , she thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- To my English friends, I mean absolutely no offense with my terrible transliteration of the Cockney accent. I was going for Michael Caine, not Oliver Twist, but it's really hard to pull off in print. Forgive me. -MM


	30. Chapter 30

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Grimmauld Place**  
 **Wednesday**

"Lyra, you lazy ingrate! Why are you corrupting my son!" Ginny called to her melodramatically from upstairs.

"I didn't mean to!" She called back. "I'm so sorry I'm late! I overslept!"

"Come up! Bring food!" Ginny commanded.

"Like any food or something in particular?" Lyra asked, looking about the large kitchen.

"Tea. Cookies. Make it quick, I'm dying."

"This is slave labor," Lyra griped quietly to James, who smiled at her excitedly. "Alrighty, James. I need you to get the cookies while I heat the water. Then we can take take these to the queen so she lets us keep our heads."

The boy squealed with laughter as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard and proceeded to talk her ear off about Quidditch while she prepared the rest.

Lyra corralled him up the stairs while she carried the tea and met Ginny in the sitting room.

"Your tea, my lady," she said setting it down with a little bow before plopping down into an armchair across from her.

"Excellent!" Ginny exclaimed, preparing herself a cup and resting it on top of her round belly.

Lyra smirked over at her, taking in her appearance. She was wearing maternity robes, which never looked good on anybody, but the cream color looked nice with her pale skin.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Lyra asked.

"I felt like I had to! I didn't want the earrings to see me without it!" She replied, turning her head back and forth so that the pear-shaped emeralds glinted in the light.

"They look even better than I thought they would," Lyra chirped, clearly pleased.

"I knew it was your doing. So he just lets you command him to buy jewelry for your friends?" Ginny quipped, tenderly stroking one of the earrings, feigning nonchalance.

"I didn't command him to do shi...anything. I told him it would mean a lot to me and he did it," she answered.

"Well, thank you for picking them out. I adore them," Ginny said.

"Believe it or not, I didn't pick them. He did. I gave him colors only, the rest was him."

"Huh." Ginny mused, before leaning in to whisper to her. "I mean, he is straight, isn't he?" She joked.

 _Uh, yep. Recent studies have shown that to be the case_ , she thought to herself before electing to say nothing and roll her eyes at her friend.

"Harry wanted me to give them back, the sod," Ginny informed her.

"Well then Harry can sleep on the couch and you can sleep next to the earrings," Lyra responded.

"I said the exact same thing!" Ginny exclaimed. "So does that mean you've seen him?"

 _Here we go._ "I have. By accident, actually. I'm staying in Westminster at some spare Muggle apartment that Narcissa Malfoy owns. He was trying to escape the press one day and just showed up."

"And?"

"And he caught me by surprise and I sort of passed out," Lyra replied honestly.

Ginny snorted. "Ok, what then?"

"Nothing really. We sat next to each other on the couch. Watched TV. Ate food," she explained. "Talked a little. Nothing serious. He's more the same than different, I think."

"Did you snog him again?"

"What?! That's ridiculous!" Lyra exclaimed, suddenly terrified that Ginny Potter was some secret wandless Legilimens that was after her soul.

"It is ridiculous. The whole bloody situation's ridiculous. But that wasn't a no." Ginny prodded.

Lyra's face blazed with guilt and embarrassment. She had to contain this.

"MUMMY SAID A BAD WORD!" James exclaimed.

 _Oh thank god for James_ , she thought.

"Yes, Mummy is very naughty. Be a dear and go see if Albus is awake from his nap, will you love?" She directed.

James huffed dramatically, channeling his mother, and trudged out of the room to check on his brother.

"You did, didn't you?" Ginny pressed her. "I'm not judging you, there's a lot of emotions flying around. Plus, he's not completely unfortunate looking...for a ferret."

Lyra gasped in mock surprise. "Ginny! Look at you, all sweet on Draco Malfoy because he made you sparkle."

"Oh come off it," her friend replied. "It would take a lot more sparkle than this, but I do have eyeballs, you know," she said, sipping her tea nonchalantly.

Lyra chuckled before switching gears. "How's Harry? I haven't seen him since Saturday because I've been off. I'm worried about him."

Ginny sighed. "He's...he's a little raw, to be honest. He hasn't said it, but I think what bothers him the most is that he feels like he failed you."

That made Lyra's heart sink. "I need to talk to him. I just...I don't want to talk to anybody lately about anything that matters," she sighed, frustrated with herself.

"Lyra, it's only been what, a week? I don't think anyone can fault you for needing some time," Ginny offered, reassuringly.

"I get that, but what does waiting do? It just creates walls. And do you know what happens when you don't speak your mind? Other people try to speak it for you. They assume your motives and then everybody gets hurt," Lyra said, looking off into the distance.

"Are we still talking about Harry?" His wife inquired.

"Yes...but also no," Lyra answered sadly.

"Ah. Well, can't you and Malfoy just read each other's minds or whatnot? It doesn't need to be anything special," Ginny offered.

"I don't want to," she admitted.

"Meaning you don't want to see his thoughts or you don't want him to see yours?" Ginny asked.

"Both," Lyra answered.

"Hmm.." Ginny hummed as James bounded back in the room, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

They spent the afternoon entertaining the boys, James with coloring and Albus with copious amounts of Lyra snuggles. It was getting late and Lyra had an appointment to keep with Draco and Scorpius, but she wanted to see Harry before she left.

"Where is Harry? I was hoping to see him," Lyra asked, helping Ginny with dinner in the kitchen.

"He's on a raid," Ginny replied, surprised she didn't know.

"WHAT?!" She exclaimed in genuine offense. "He's raiding without me?"

"I don't think it's like that, you hotblooded thing," Ginny dismissed. "I think he signed on to it to keep busy. He's worried about you and the baby and the inquiry he's facing."

Lyra felt bad. "Yeah, no. I get it. It's what I would be doing, if Shacklebolt hadn't banished me to Purgatory. Hopefully I'll get to see him tomorrow." She replied forlornly.

"Gods. Aurors. You're all so moody," her friend fired at her.

"I want to be mad at you for that, but you're not wrong," Lyra answered with a smirk. "It's why we're all so good in the sack."

"Eew. No." Ginny replied.

"Really? No?" Lyra quipped with a poke at the redhead's pregnant belly.

"Run along, before I eat you," she said, waving a wooden spoon at her.

"Alright, fine. See if I get Draco to buy you anything else now," she teased, gathering her things.

"Tell him I look stunning in blue," Ginny replied, focusing more on the stew than her words.

"Will do. Bye Boys!" Lyra called to them, stepping in front of the fireplace.

"Lyra, don't forget the crumble-crusts!" Ginny called out to her, in what Lyra swore was Marla Black's exact voice.

"Ohmigod, Ma. I've got it." She retorted, stepping into the fireplace to go back to the Savoy.


	31. Chapter 31

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Wednesday Evening**

Lyra stepped out of the fireplace and scarcely had time to catch her balance before a little blonde boy tore into the room and wrapped himself around her leg, babbling at her with excitement.

"It's you! I waited for you forever, but now you're here now!" Scorpius exclaimed. "Do the shoes, please please please!"

Lyra stared down at him in surprise before looking up to see a much larger blonde boy enter the living room smirking at her handsomely.

How long have you been waiting? Weren't you coming back at five?" She asked Draco, handing him the box with the crumble-crusts for dessert.

"We got here about 30 minutes ago," he explained. "What you need to understand is that there is regular time and then there is Scorpius time," Draco informed her, matter of factly. "By his measure he's been waiting for you for approximately 42 years."

"Ah," She replied, dropping a hand to pat the little one on his pale head. "Ok, kiddo. Wait's over. Let's do this. On the couch with you," she instructed.

Scorpius flung himself onto the couch with abandon and sat up to face her as she knelt in front of him. Draco sat down next to his son and watched with amusement as they interacted.

"You want the blue ones with scorpions again?" Lyra asked, pulling her wand from her pocket.

"Yesyesyesyesyyes" he replied, wiggling his feet giddily.

She laughed before waving her wand over his little shoes turning them a rich blue. "You wanna chase them?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "You gotta be fast."

"Yesyesyesyesyes" he answered reaching down for his toes.

Lyra put the tip of her wand to his toes and rush of silver scorpions scuttled across his foot before freezing.

Scorpius squealed with laughter, which made both her and Draco laugh. She did the other shoe with similar results and then sat back on her heels watching the boy kick his feet proudly before flopping over on the couch and sticking his newly blue shoes in his fathers lap.

"Do Daddy's too!" He begged.

Lyra looked over at Draco, who was clearly barefoot and shaking his head at her. "Well, Scorpius, I don't think it would be very nice to turn his feet blue, do you?" Lyra asked.

"Mmm...no. But it would make me laugh so hard," he answered with the kind of sociopathic bluntness only a kid could muster.

"And you have a pretty good laugh, so I suppose we must," Lyra replied, shooting a look of fake sympathy over at Draco.

"Yeah, Daddy. We have to do it because we really just have to." Scorpius explained.

"An excellent point, son. Your logic is flawless," Draco replied extending his bare feet out to Lyra with a skeptical look on his face.

"Oh Scorpius, I have an idea. You're gonna love this," Lyra told him. She waved her wand over Draco's feet turning them Slytherin green, making him look like a half-man, half-goblin. _Appropriate_ , Lyra thought to herself.

"While I appreciate the color, sweetheart…." Draco said, flexing his green toes at her.

"Silence! I'm not done," Lyra cut him off. She touched the tip of her wand to his big toe sending charmed silver dragons spiraling out to curl over the surface of his foot.

"Wow!" Scorpius exclaimed, before howling with laughter and proceeding to roll happily all over the sofa.

Lyra did the same on the other foot and looked back up at Draco to gauge his response.

"Hmmm. Actually, I don't hate it," he said, studying his feet.

"Good, because I made yours permanent," Lyra joked at him.

"Brilliant," he replied.

"Daddy, do Miss Lyra's!" Scorpius demanded, with the full force of a tiny Malfoy.

"Pass," Lyra said immediately.

"Oh no, I insist," Draco said standing and pulling Lyra to her feet.

"Of course you do," Lyra frowned at him.

"Do it, do it!" Scorpius implored.

Lyra huffed and shucked her shoes, because she knew he would just do it for her anyway. She recalled that he'd been hesitant to point his wand at her yesterday, but he was Draco and this was about payback, so she figured he'd muscle through.

She climbed up on the sofa, next to Scorpius and set her feet on the coffee table in front of her.

"Mummy says you can't do that because it's not proper," Scorpius informed her, pointing at her feet.

"Mummy is right and you should always do what she says, because you are a proper English boy. Lyra however, is an American, and Americans are many good things, but we are seldom proper," Lyra explained, causing Draco to snort at her.

He knelt next to her and put one of his hands on her shin. Lyra tried not to be distracted by the contact. This was about entertaining the kid with some cute charms, not thinking about his hands. _How warm they are, how heavy...nope nope nope_ , she thought to herself.

Draco waved his wand over her feet turning them a strawberry red.

"Oh come on," she protested.

"Patience. This is my masterpiece," Draco said over her feet. He touched his wand to her toe and sent a shower of golden harps tumbling over the surface of one foot and then the other.

Lyra blushed, not quite so red as the color of her feet, but close.

"What are those?" Scorpius asked, looking at her feet.

"The Lyre of Orpheus," Draco explained.

"The what?" Scorpius inquired.

"It's a harp, buddy," Lyra explained. "It's what my name means."

"Oh. Why didn't they just name you Harp?" The boy asked.

"Because in my family, just like in your Grandma's family, we all get named after stars and stuff. Your dad is named after the stars and so is your Grandma, and so are you, and so am I. How cool is that?! Look at us, we're half the sky!" She explained.

She saw two practically identical sweet smiles pointed dangerously in her direction. One by the little boy and one by his father. "It's cool," Scorpius said.

"I agree," Draco added.

"Scorpions are the best though," Scorpius added.

"Well, obviously," Lyra agreed. "Then harps."

"Yeah, and then dragons," the little boy added.

"Alright you lot, who's hungry?" Draco asked, chuckling.

"I am starving. What about you kiddo?" Lyra looked over to Scorpius.

"Yeah for forever," he replied, looking down absently at his feet.

"I've got fruit for nibbles and we can call out for room service from the hotel," Draco informed them.

They spent the evening eating and chatting. Scorpius nearly lost his mind over Ginny's crumble-crusts. They were good, but not great. Lyra's mother's, now those were great.

Lyra and Scorpius proved an excellent team in making fun of Draco, much to his chagrin. She got hers, however, when the boys turned on her and started calling her Harp, which Draco had to put the squash on after Scorpius innocently started calling her Harpy. Lyra thought it was hilarious.

Scorpius started yawning at around 8pm which, according to his father, was about right on time. For continuity's sake and since Astoria was retrieving him in the morning, Draco decided he and Scorpius would stay at his flat in Wizarding London. It would give Lyra some space as well, which he could tell she needed.

"Daddy, can we read Babbity Rabbity when we get home?" Scorpius asked.

"I don't see why not. Go say goodbye to Lyra," Draco answered.

The little boy bounded over to Lyra who was spelling up the dishevelment in the kitchen.

"Bye, Lyra. I'm glad you're not sick anymore. You're more pretty this way," Scorpius said to her plainly.

"Uh...thanks," Lyra replied with an eyebrow raised.

"We can talk about the trains next time," he reassured her, figuring she was probably agonizing about the lack of train talk over dinner.

"That sounds good, kid. Go get some sleep and be nice to your dad." She then leaned in to whisper to him "mostly nice."

Scorpius laughed a secret little laugh for her and then ran back over to the fireplace.

Draco approached her, full of things to say, but afraid to say any of them. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Tell the Potterwife thanks for the sweets. That was nice of her," he said, staring at her back as she levitated some dishes back into the cabinets.

"Yeah, for sure," she answered.

"Lyra,"

"Draco," she replied, turning to face him.

"I..." he huffed out a breath. "My mother would like to have you for dinner tomorrow." That wasn't what he was going to say. Hell, it wasn't even true. He figured she wouldn't mind, but now he'd have to arrange the whole thing.

"Well, I don't think she'd like me very much. I'm not low fat," Lyra joked to him.

"Will you go?" He pressed.

"Sure," she shrugged.

"Great," he choked out in a rush. He needed to touch her. Nothing gratuitous, but he couldn't leave without it. He reached out for her waist with one hand and gave her a little squeeze which she leaned into. He swooped down and gave her a peck on the cheek, pushing forward to murmur in her ear. "Goodnight, Harpy," he said with a smile before releasing her.

Lyra answered him by whipping him in the backside with a dishtowel as he walked away and dramatically banishing him from her presence for all time, which led Draco to having to explain the concept of sarcasm to his three year old over their bedtime story.


	32. Chapter 32

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Thursday Morning  
**

Lyra went to work on Thursday, because it was the first day Shacklebolt would allow her to return without the threat of physical violence. She'd enjoyed the laziness, the binge eating and the mind-blowing sex, but she wasn't the type to like being off for long periods.

She was greeted warmly by her colleagues, including a crushing hug from the typically shy Simpkins which left her quite surprised.

"As beautiful as ever, Auror Black," Zabini crooned at her with a peck on the cheek, which she allowed ONLY because she agreed that she did look pretty good that day. Can't blame a guy for just telling it like it is.

"Where's Harry?" She asked, anxious to see her friend.

"In his office, presumably," Rossman answered. "He was on a raid late last night with one of Godwin's teams."

"For what?" Lyra asked.

"Busting up some pureblood supremacy thing. Godwin and Shacklebolt are mad on it. Harry is too, typically."

"I imagine that he would be," Lyra replied, nonplussed. "I'm gonna go see him. Simpkins? You wanna do some reads later?" Lyra asked, itching to try her hand at more advanced magic since her hiatus.

"I'd like that," he answered.

"Awesome."

She meandered over to Harry's office and found the wizard asleep sitting up at his desk with his arms crossed supporting his head.

"Harry."

Nothing.

"Potter!"

Nothing.

"HARRY!"

Harry jerked up, nearly knocking over his coffee cup in the process.

"-"M 'wake." He mumbled.

"Of course you are," Lyra answered, sitting down in the chair opposite his desk.

"You're back," he said, sounding more tired than before.

"I'm back," she replied.

"Excellent," he replied flatly, reaching for his coffee.

"Harry."

"What?"

"Look at me," she commanded, with a roll of her eyes.

He looked at her, keeping his expression guarded.

"It's not your fault. None of it," she said.

"Yeah, tell that to the investigators trying to take my job, tell that to your parents who almost lost their daughter, tell that to James who's been having nightmares," he bit out, with an edge of irritation.

"Ok. I will tell them, if that's what you want," Lyra rebutted gently. "Are...are you still angry with me?" She asked.

Harry's face fell. "No, of course not." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "You got your part of the job done. We were so careful. So thorough. All that planning gone to pot because some sodding elves got too excited about who I was as a kid," he grumbled defensively.

"Harry, come on. They had no way of knowing what would happen. You don't mean that," she replied.

He huffed. "No, I don't. I just...I should have controlled it better, covered all the angles," he mused.

"You know someone else who thought he could control everything? Voldemort. And guess what? He got his ass handed to him by a lanky teenager in bad glasses," Lyra offered.

Harry smiled before frowning. "Hey! They're not bad glasses!" He replied in offense.

"I believe that you believe that is true," Lyra quipped with a grin.

Harry smiled at her.

"I would be dead if it wasn't for you, Harry. You were a little fashionably late, for sure, but you saved my life. I adore you. I love your family and I am so proud to be your friend. Whatever happens, whenever you need someone to back you, I'm your girl. As a Snape by birth, I do not say that lightly," she said to him very seriously.

Harry looked at her as if he were going to cry.

"Don't you dare," Lyra reprimanded him. "As your friend, let me be the first to inform you that nobody likes a sissy, so lock it up," she pointed a finger in his face.

"No, of course not," he said with a cough, looking down at some miscellaneous paperwork on his desk.

"Hey, what are you doing right now?" Lyra asked lightly, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair.

"Um, not a whole lot, actually. I have the Malfoys coming in at eleven to go over some statements, but other than that I was just going to brush up on a bit of training," he answered.

Lyra looked over at the clock on the wall and saw it was just after nine. _Do this now, work with Simpkins later. That should perk me right up_ , she thought.

"Fight me," she stated flatly at her friend.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"You have a practice facility, right? Fight me! I have all this energy from my down time and you're all stressed out. It'll make us feel better. Plus, I haven't seen the great Harry Potter in full form. Come on," she prodded.

He glanced at the clock for himself, chewing on his cheek. "No."

"For fuck's sake, Harry. Can you honestly say that it wouldn't put a pep in your step?"

"I raided last night, I'm tired," he dismissed.

"I died last week. See! We'll both be the fat kids on the pitch. It'll be fun. Come ooooooon," she whined.

He thought a moment. She had a point. Plus, if her legilimency was any indication, she'd could be a good sparring partner. His best match was Kingsley, who hardly ever fought anymore. Next was Blaise, who was getting really quite good, but wasn't fast enough to be a consistent threat. "Alright," he answered. "Change, then meet me in the common and we'll go down together."

Lyra squealed with delight and hopped up from her chair. "Oh, I am so excited!" She exclaimed making her way out of his office and heading towards the changing rooms.

* * *

Lyra met Harry several minutes later in the entrance to the Auror Department. She had changed into her standard raiding gear which, for an American Auror, consisted of black cargo type pants, a black long sleeved shirt and a tight tactical vest. She braided her hair down her back to keep it out of her way and put on her tight wristwraps.

Harry, on the other hand, was wearing basically a different set of dad clothes.

"Ummm..." Lyra said to him as she approached.

"Americans. You always think you need to have a special kit for everything," he quipped, dusting some lint from his sweater.

"So, today's fight will be Lyra Black, darkhorse assassin, versus Harry Potter, first year herbology teacher!" Lyra announced to the room like a sportscaster.

Harry scoffed. "Come on then, darkhorse assassin. I don't want to keep you waiting too long for your comeuppance," he quipped, leading her to a side door and descending several flights of stairs.

He brought her to an antiquated, but well stocked training space. There were sparring dummies, automatic hex throwers and several subchambers full of different obstacles and equipment.

"This is awesome! Where do you wanna go?" She asked her friend.

"I was thinking the arena. It's the largest," he answered.

"Oh good. Plenty of space for you to hide," she teased.

He just rolled his eyes at her and showed her back to a cavernous room, about the size of a Quidditch pitch that had been spelled to fit in the bowels of the ministry. It had walls and tables and fodder of all types. It even had some trees and a small lake. Looking up, Lyra saw that the room was actually more of a pit and there was a viewing gallery rimming the entire space. The ceiling had been charmed to look like the daytime sky. It was awesome. The facilities at MCUSA were more modern, but definitely less grand than this.

Looking back to one corner of the room she saw two people throwing glowing hexes at each other and recognized Zabini's deep voice shouting instruction and encouragement out at Rossman who was doing her best to keep up with him.

"Arm up, love! Don't drop that guard!" He advised.

Rossman danced around him gracefully, hurling spells to disarm him. She overbalanced one that left her wrist exposed for a fraction of a second and Zabini jumped on that to hit her with a simple Expelliarmus that sent her wand up into the air and into his grasp.

Lyra and Harry sauntered over and watched the exchange with interest.

"Too far, Azalea," Lyra called to her.

"I know. I know. I always do that," she griped with a huff.

"Your coverage is really good though, good variance of spells," Lyra added truthfully to reassure her.

"Thanks!" she grinned.

"You two gonna have a go?" Zabini asked curiously, handing Rossman's wand back to her.

"Yeah, we've a bit of time, so we thought we'd see what the other was made of," Potter explained.

"You mind if we watch?" Rossman asked.

"By all means. I want you to see me put our golden boy here on his ass," Lyra replied with a grin. She turned to Harry, "It's your house, dearest. Pick your corner."

"We're doing this full on?" Harry asked.

"Of course we are! Didn't think I'd let you keep it to an easy close range game, did you? That's no fun," she replied.

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, trudging away into the room to get ready.

Lyra turned to Blaise. "How good is he? I bet he's pretty fucking good," she muttered.

"Yeah. He's a right bloody wall," he replied.

"I mean how is it that he can be such a badass and dress like a spell-damage insurance salesman? I don't get it," she whispered to him before turning to run off to a corner of her own in the giant room. "Oh hey will you greenspark for us?" She asked him, referring to the signal for start-of-match."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

Lyra ended up back by the little lake with it's nobbly willow tree. She climbed up it, walking out on to a branch and waited patiently for the spark.

* * *

Draco and his mother walked into the Auror's Department late at 11:15, because Malfoy's make YOU wait, not the other way around. They were both put off by the clear lack of people around the common.

"Where the devil is everyone?" Draco said to his mother, looking down at his watch.

"Oh Piperin! There you are!" Narcissa exclaimed to the graying Scot as he hurried in from a side door.

"Good Morning to you, Mrs. Malfoy. Looking radiant as ever," he chirped, leaning in to kiss the woman on the cheek which caused her to blush sweetly.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Auror Shacklebolt is running a bit behind today. How about I grab you a spot of tea and get you settled in a room to wait," Gold offered.

"Wait!?" Draco said, appalled. "Absolutely not. We can go over things with Auror Black or Auror Rossman. Whichever is available now," he dismissed proudly.

"Well lad, you see, most everybody in the office is downstairs watching the match," Gold explained, clearly annoyed.

"What are you on about? What match?" He asked.

"Potter and Black are sparring downstairs. It's quite the show. I just came from there myself and would like to be getting back to see how it turns out," he clarified.

"Take me down," Draco bit out in an authoritative tone.

Gold shrugged but beckoned them through the side door down to the training spaces.

He led them to a viewing gallery above an open sparring pit. The gallery was absolutely packed with people, and not just Aurors. Draco recognized his father's idiot friend Julian, who was the head of MLE, along with a gaggle of other Ministry personnel. He nodded to Rowena Wormwood, his mousy legilimens, as he passed her.

Gold brought them over to the other Aurors and they looked down onto the room below. Draco didn't see anything at first, just a giant space full of random impediments with a haze of smoke in the air.

Then he saw her. She was clad in all black, crouching behind an overturned carriage. She was covered in soot and had a cut on her forehead that was oozing blood. Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch Potter in his stupid face.

Lyra looked around for a place to run to after her cast, which would undoubtedly reveal her position. She muttered something into the tip of her wand and hurled a spell at the ceiling which changed the charmed ceiling from day to night. She then leapfrogged from obstacle to obstacle seeking to keep herself out of view. The throng in the gallery buzzed with excitement.

She had just hidden herself behind an overturned table when a jet of red sparks shot out from across the room causing the table to fly into the air. Lyra reacted quickly and turned onto her back. She captured the table with a spell of her own and flung it at Harry as he was coming out from behind a thicket of bushes.

Potter fired a spell into the table that obliterated it to dust. Lyra used the obscuring screen it created to take flight, leaving a trail of black smoke behind her. Potter picked up on it instantly and followed suit, disappearing into a haze of white smoke. They collided in midair, almost at the level of the spectators, twisting and twirling around each other too quickly for the eye to distinguish between them. Somewhere from within the resulting gray cloud a glimmer of purple fire shot out and Harry fell out of flight, tumulting to the ground.

He caught himself easily with a quick levitation charm and found himself in the center of the room without a scrap of cover as Lyra touched down behind him. He turned to face her and the two began to duel in earnest.

Draco had never seen anything like it, and he'd seen people literally fight to the death. The speed at which they shot spells at each other was inhuman. The noise was incredible and he could actually feel the percussion of their rapid fire in his chest. Lyra looked beautiful and terrifying at the same time with her arms dancing around her lithe form gracefully and her braid whipping around her like a tail when she spun or ducked.

They were lighting up the room like the frigging Fourth of July and Lyra couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a good time in a training session. Harry was amazing. Clever, creative and an excellent defensive spellcaster. She felt, even so, that Harry was pulling his punches a little bit. Some of his offensive spells, especially his stinging hexes were weak sauce and she could muscle through them with only moderate discomfort. She would reprimand him for that later, right now, she was having too much fun. She felt like a cooped up horse finally put out to run.

 _Merlin on ice, this witch is good_ , Harry thought to himself as he dodged a barrage of her curses, feeling a new tear in his sweater. She was far better than Zabini, and, much to his surprise, better than Shacklebolt. He hoped she wasn't better than himself, but honestly, after nearly two hours, he wasn't sure. He was flabbergasted at her ability to withstand a stinging hex. He was particularly good at those and she'd pushed through his worst ones as if they were butterflies on her cheek.

Lyra needed an opening. Just one little thing. Harry was too good to overextend his casts without cause so she would have to get creative. She summoned the water from the lake as a column of clear plasma and sent it rushing at Harry. He make a stunned face and fired several standard defenses at it to no avail. It crashed into him, knocking him off his feet.

Harry lept back up and swirled his wand out wide for a water gathering charm of his own. As soon as he did it, he realized his mistake. It was a trap. She needed his arm out to trip him up. _Bullocks_ , he thought.

"Incarcerus aquasentiri-" Lyra cried. The displaced water snapped into place around Harry, holding him in a chilly, wet embrace. His momentary struggling succeeded only in him getting water in his nose, which made him sputter. He was done.

"Wizard. Do you yield?" Lyra called out to him, voice booming, her wand leveled very seriously at his chest. This was basically the dueling equivalent of checkmate.

"Aye, witch. I yield," he replied formally, releasing his grip on his wand and letting it clatter to the ground. The audience gasped in collective surprise.

Lyra walked up to him, not releasing his bonds and regarded him with a smirk. "Boop," she squeaked, putting her index finger to his nose as a taunt.

"Let me go," he said to her, with a tired chuckle.

She tapped her wand to the band of water around his chest to release him. In an act of retaliation, he canted his body letting the water rush over her and took both of them, sopping wet, to the ground.

Lyra laid on her back, exhausted. Harry reached a weak arm over to her and poked her in the forehead with his index finger. "Boop," he said smugly, before flopping onto his back next to her. The gallery erupted in applause.

They turned to look at each other and both began to howl with laughter. Harry got up first and helped Lyra to her feet. He grabbed her wrist in his hand and pulled her arm over her head, declaring her the victor. He dropped his hold on her and dipped his head in respect before joining in on the applause.

Lyra made a conciliatory bow towards him and then blushed up at the viewing gallery. She noticed Blaise and Gold almost immediately. They were sarcastically chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!" which made Lyra keel over laughing but then naturally join them for a round, pumping her fist in the air. Her eyes then locked with Draco's. He was regarding her with an affectionate mix of pride and awe. He was so adorable and Lyra, high on victory, couldn't resist. She raised both her eyebrows at him in a cocky salute and gave him a sweet little wink. He rewarded her with one of his heart-stopping smiles and shook his head at her before joining in on the applause with the rest of the spectators.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- This was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy it. :) -MM


	33. Chapter 33

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Department  
Thursday**

Lyra and Harry sloshed back to the commons together, chatting excitedly about the match. What was good, how the other could improve and so on. When they entered into the once-again bustling common room, the place erupted in more cheers. Zabini and Gold found them first.

"That was the stuff of legend! You need to teach me some of what you did? How do you even move your arms that fast?" Zabini chirped happily to Lyra.

"Well, I have very little arms, you see," she joked. "I'd be happy to show you...maybe next week because I would be shocked if I can move said arms tomorrow."

"Anytime. You tell me," he said.

"The Malfoys are here, waiting to see you, Harry," Gold informed them.

"Right, ok. Tell them I'll just be a second to change," Harry replied.

"Can I sit in on that?" Lyra inquired.

Harry turned to her and furrowed his brow. "Do you really want to? I mean, he's here, and all."

"No, I know that. It's fine. I'd like to," she replied.

"Yeah, I guess that's alright," he replied.

"Harry, I feel like I should tell you something-" She began, before getting cut off by the sudden arrival of Simpkins and Rossman who showered them with more praise and requests for instruction.

Harry broke away first, "Lyra, I'm going to change. Meet me in room two in about ten, yeah?" He said, walking down the hall to the men's changing room.

 _Damn. Ok. It's fine. Just tell him later_ , she thought to herself. _Tell him what, exactly? You shagged the dude who killed you? The dude who used to basically bully Harry for kicks? Ugh_. She trudged off to her own changing room and clean up.

* * *

Lyra took a little bit of time putting herself back together. Spelling her long hair dry, reapplying some makeup, making sure her tight pencil skirt was on straight. She had sustained a little cut on her forehead during her fight that was already closed so she didn't bother healing it. Plus, it made her look like a badass, and she was feeling it.

She took a deep breath outside the interview room. _Ok, it doesn't have to be weird. So you're about to sideseat an interview with a subject who knows very well what your vagina looks like, so what? My mediwitch knows and she's a consummate professional. No big deal._ She slapped on her most placidly even expression and entered the room.

Harry was already there, chatting niceties with Narcissa Malfoy about his family. Draco appeared to be ignoring the bulk of the conversation but snapped to attention when she walked in, rising from his seat, like the aristocrat that he was.

"Down boy. This is business casual," she quirked, motioning for him to sit back down.

He did so, shooting her a cool look. "Lyra," he said flatly.

"Draco," she replied. _And it's weird now,_ she thought. _Nailed it._

Harry looked anxiously back and forth between the two of them, trying to come up with something to say, fortunately Mrs. Malfoy was all over it.

"Lyra, what an amazing show you put on this morning. Both of you. You're an incredible fighter, truly. I've never seen anything like it," Narcissa crooned sweetly.

"Thank you. I'm glad you were there to see it," Lyra replied politely.

"Are you still coming for dinner this evening? The elves are already hard at work," the blonde witch continued.

"I sure am, provided I can get all of the water out of my ears," she replied, shooting an accusatory glance at Harry.

Harry snorted and then got to it. "I appreciate you both coming in today. I wanted to see if you'd go on record about whether or not Lucius has any active connections to the modern blood-purity movement. As I'm sure you've read in the papers, they've been having a bit of a resurgence lately and we want to investigate whether his actions had any relation to their cause."

 _Oh god...I did not sign up for this._ Lyra thought.

Mrs. Malfoy gasped and grabbed the pearls at her throat. Draco sat, staring daggers at Harry and clenched his fists.

"What the hell are you saying?" Draco spat.

"I'm saying that your father was a Death Eater for years, went to prison because of his open alliance with Voldemort, and has indisputably been using dark magic again. I wonder if, on a grander scale, that it's possible he's gone back to his old ways," Harry clarified, remarkably calm.

Lyra looked across at Narcissa who was trembling. "I...I don't...," the woman mumbled in a shaky voice.

"Harry, maybe we should-" Lyra began.

Draco jumped up from the table without warning and stormed out of the room.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Harry began, looking bewildered.

"I...I should go find my son, excuse me," Narcissa made to stand up, but Lyra stopped her by reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

"Let me," she said with a sympathetic look. "Let me do it."

The shaken witch gave a small nod of agreement before settling back into her chair uneasily.

Lyra shot an exasperated look discretely over to Harry, who seemed genuinely surprised by the way the scene had played out. _Honestly, pal. You are killing me here,_ she thought hard at him, hoping he'd hear it. She excused herself and left the room in search of Draco.

She found him just down the hallway, pacing back and forth angrily in front of some empty conference rooms. He shot an intense glare at her, but didn't withdraw when she approached him. She opened the door to an empty room along the corridor and nodded for him to follow her inside. She was relieved when he complied. She shut the door behind them and watched him warily for a few moments as he moved with agitation around the small space.

"I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't know he was going to do that," she said to him honestly.

"Bloody wanker. Like my mother hasn't been through enough, we're expected to go back in time now so Potty can remind us how much better he is than we are," he bit out grimly.

"No. It's not like that," Lyra began.

"Are you defending him? Bloody perfect, Puk. Thanks a lot," Draco interrupted her, running a frustrated hand through his platinum hair.

Lyra sighed. _Get your hands on him. Calm him down._ She walked over, getting much closer than friendly, and looked up at him. She reached out tentatively and put her hand on his chest, tugging gently at his black silk tie. "Hey, no." She soothed. "That was a big bomb to drop on you both. I'm sorry it happened that way. I...I can't imagine how hard that must be to hear."

"Do you think he's right?" Draco questioned with an edge to his voice.

Lyra grimaced. "I honestly don't know. I wouldn't put it past the old man, though I didn't see anything concrete about it when I read him. I also think anti-pureblood supremacy is Harry's big thing, and it might be one of those situations where he sees it anywhere he looks," Lyra explained, rubbing the smooth fabric of his tie between her fingers. She stared ahead at his chest and noted the way his breathing slowed as he looked at her.

Draco huffed then brought his nose down to her hairline to breathe her in. He had missed her. He wanted to take her back to the Savoy and keep her in bed with him all day.

"You're hurt," he said to her softly.

"What?" Lyra asked, looking up.

He ghosted his fingers over the little cut on her forehead.

"Oh, it's fine. Small price to pay for eternal glory," she smirked up at him.

"You were incredible," he informed her. "Why didn't you heal it?" He asked, moving his thumb back and forth over over the skin adjacent to the injury.

"Because it makes me feel like a badass," she replied, smugly. "You wanna heal it for me?" She asked, hopeful that it would appeal to his possessive streak, or maybe her possessive streak, she wasn't sure.

"You can do it for yourself, I'm sure," he murmured back to her.

She frowned. "I know, but I want you to do it," she whispered up to him, her breath caressing his neck.

His jaw gave a little twitch and he pulled his wand out. He passed it in front of her face and muttered a healing incantation.

Lyra felt a warm glow and tingle at the site of the cut and then nothing. She reached up to smooth her hand over her unmarred skin and smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied gently.

Lyra sighed. "What do you want to do here, Draco? My professional opinion is that it's not a baseless line of questioning and could potentially be helpful in a broader sense. My personal opinion? I can see it causes you and your mom some pain to discuss, it's not directly part of this case and I'll support you if you walk," she offered.

He huffed dismissively. "Really? I thought you and Potter were best mates now?"

"We are best mates. Doesn't mean I have to agree with every single thing he does. I mean come on, I don't agree with everything you do and we still...you know," she trailed off, awkwardly clearing her throat.

He laughed. "Fair point. Speaking of, it's been far too long since we...you know," he said, lightly mocking her awkwardness. "I think that warrants action," he murmured to her, gently toying with a piece of her long hair.

"I bet you do," she quipped, blushing.

After several seconds, he shook his head and sighed. "I can't speak for my mother, but I'll do it on the condition that you do the questioning. I don't want to talk to him."

"I don't think it would be appropriate for me to lead any line of questioning at this point with everything that's happened," she added referring not only to their death-match at the Manor, but also their personal relationship. She hesitated. "Would you let Blaise or Azalea do it if I sideseat?"

Draco frowned and took a deep breath. "The witch. You know when I came to at the Manor she was the one who realized you were breathing? She seems...not awful," he added, feigning disinterest.

"She's a good egg," Lyra confirmed. "Plus, I'll be right there," she reassured him, pressing her face into his chest and bringing her arms around his waist.

Draco wrapped her in a loose hug and they just stood there for a few moments in silence.

"Should we go back?" He questioned.

"Mmm-hmm," she replied into his shirt. "In a minute."

He pulled her in closer and hid his smile in her hair.

* * *

Lyra canceled her afternoon legilimency practice with Simpkins so Rossman could interview the Malfoys officially. She cleared it with Harry, of course, who was miffed but grateful that they'd agreed at all after their initial reaction.

She had Rossman take Draco and Narcissa through the interview together so they would be able to support each other. Lyra installed herself next to Azalea and remained silent the entire time, letting Draco lock his eyes with hers for an anchor when things got intense.

What followed was basically a crash course for Lyra on twentieth and twenty-first century British blood purity movements.

Mrs. Malfoy cried a lot but persevered with Draco's encouragement, and the gist was pretty simple. The Malfoys, like the Blacks were purebloods and had always advocated for that cause. The movement to which they'd historically subscribed quite insipidly viewed any magic for others as less magic for themselves and saw their class as the rightful keepers of magic on Earth. Magic in a muggle-born body was a perversion of nature. A non-magical child born to a pureblood family was a punishment for poor adherence to traditions. Pretty standard bullshit.

Narcissa explained to her that it was a common misconception, especially overseas, that the blood purity movement really started with Lord Voldemort, which wasn't the case. It both predated and postdated him, as evidenced by current activities. Those who fought for him did so for a variety of reasons, blood status being merely one of many.

Lucius had, like Narcissa's own father, entered the purity movement through an affiliation with an organization called The Vox Prima. The Vox was a secret society that inducted primarily wealthy, pureblood wizards and gave them safe spaces to mingle and collaborate to further initiatives that served their interests.

Draco continued, describing how Voldemort, gained membership to the organization in his youth and recruited from the inside, grooming the more extreme for elite membership in the Death Eaters. Draco surmised that his father was attracted more out of a love for exclusivity than anything else, but it was only a guess. The man was an enigma of self-importance and hate. He would jump on any excuse to secure his power at the expense of others, no matter the cause.

The Vox endured after the First Wizarding War which had occurred when Draco was just a baby. Afterwards, his father retreated back into the general body of the organization and remained active, plotting and scheming to maintain his influence. After the second war however, not only had the Death Eaters been exposed, but The Vox had quietly been dissolved to the best of his knowledge.

Narcissa recounted her experience in the Second Wizarding War, which had left her rightfully traumatized. She recalled that, towards the end, the majority of her fellow footsoldiers had realized that Voldemort was little more than a fraud and master manipulator. He didn't care about blood status, he cared about a unilateral consolidation of authority to shape the wizarding world as he saw fit. In his view, killing Narcissa and Draco, two aristocratic purebloods, to punish Lucius was completely acceptable. It was also a threat levied at them regularly by the Dark Lord as he dined at their table. Many of the elite wanted merely to maintain their wealth and status, not end up in the clutches of a homicidal maniac, like what they saw happening to the unlucky Malfoys.

Draco shared a bit about what he went though as well. Lyra had learned some of his story from the file that Colin made for her, but she'd never heard Draco in his own words. He had been tasked with killing Albus Dumbledore to punish his father for failing to secure a prophecy that concerned Voldemort and Harry. The choice was simple. He was to kill the headmaster or the Dark Lord would kill him and his mother. After Dumbledore was killed, Draco spent the bulk of an entire year with Voldemort living under his parent's roof. Killing people, torturing people right in front of him and threatening him with death on a near daily basis.

He believed he could die at any time, for any reason or no for reason at all. He explained it was very likely that the only thing separating them from death most days was, oddly enough, the support of his psychotic Aunt Bellatrix who, for all of her insanity, loved him and Narcissa in her own, odd way.

The experience had shown them that pureblood supremacists were largely cowards, afraid of a changing world, who would willingly burn a large part of it to the ground if it would keep them in champagne and diamonds. Lyra had no doubt, having spent time in both of their minds, that they were being honest about their perspectives. She just wished they hadn't nearly both had to die to change their views.

They shared with her that after his release from prison, Lucius had been restless and adrift with no base to go back to after the defeat of Voldemort. He felt betrayed by many of his 'so-called friends' who had, at least officially, renounced their support for the movement. Due to the crushing defeat and the intense public outcry against former supporters of Voldemort, the Malfoys had essentially become social pariahs, which was hard for Lucius because he loved an audience.

In the years following his public downfall, he'd largely become a hermit who kept to the Manor, favoring the archives and his study. Narcissa became the public face of the family, filling her time with various philanthropic endeavors to try and repair the family name. Draco was married quietly to a woman with money, but no remaining family to disapprove of their connection. Lucius's social circle consisted of Narcissa, Draco occasionally, and the few ministry officials that he paid obscene amounts of money to for information. Draco named those that he felt confident were associated with his father, including Julian Diamond, but figured that it could likely be more.

Neither of them had any hard evidence that he was in contact with anybody from one of the new arms of the movement. They theorized that if he did, he would likely gravitate towards any resurgent entities related to The Vox, if they existed, which they didn't know.

By the end of the long interview, she could tell Draco and his mother were exhausted and Lyra's head was spinning from all the information. She couldn't believe how complicated it all was. _What did I say. Rich people are mostly weird and gross,_ she thought to herself as she saw Draco and his mother out to the common for the Floo.

* * *

 **Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I've got wide open spaces from here, so feel free to let me know if there's a particular thing you'd like to see. Also...next chapter will end with smut, because why not. -MM**


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note - This chapter ends with smut. I put a page break in so you can stop if you'd like. Thanks for reading and special thanks to Shhh. I'm an alien for the nice review! -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England** **  
Thursday Evening**

Lyra flooed into the sitting room of Narcissa Malfoy's London townhouse just after seven. She jumped to see Draco already waiting off to the side for her as she stepped into the room.

"Good Evening, sweetheart. You look gorgeous," he said to her, bending to press a kiss to her cheek. She wore a strapless fit and flare cocktail dress in navy with her Spellman's charmed to a deep red with ribbon wraps around her ankles. Her hair was up in a high sleek bun which had the effect of making her neck look long and smooth. Draco eyed it and her chest with heated interest.

"Hi, thank you. You scared me," she replied, leaning into him.

"I'm sorry," he replied, offering her his arm and leading her towards the door. "Let's keep to the back of the room, if you don't mind. Most of the press has moved on, but there could still be a photographer or two lingering in the bush and I'd hate for tomorrow's paper to expose that my mother and I passed the evening eating a beautiful dark haired witch while performing slug magic.

"No, of course. You deserve to eat a beautiful dark haired witch while performing slug magic in peace. I mean, it's ridiculous what the world is coming to. The vultures," Lyra quipped.

Draco laughed and led her down a marble staircase bringing her to the back of the house into a dining room with murals of lush forests decorating the walls, moving as if animated by an unseen wind. The curtains were a deep purple and the ceiling was bright blue and had a unique lighting fixture in the center that mimicked a high sun.

"Lovely," Lyra remarked to herself, looking about.

"This is all my mother," he explained. "After the Second, the Ministry revoked all of our spacial manipulation permits, but this room used to be an actual forest. Mother would spend the majority of her life outside I think, if she could."

"Well, why can't she? She's an intelligent woman with access to resources. Hopefully, with your father out of the way, I'll see a picture in the Prophet soon of her on top of Mt. Everest," Lyra said, smiling up at him.

"Everest? Oh heavens no. Too cold. I was rather thinking Bermuda." Mrs. Malfoy said, entering the room looking resplendent in a deep green dress with cap sleeves and a structured bodice. She was in her early fifties but looked to be about 40 on an off day. She was lovely. She made her way over to the couple and greeted Lyra with a kiss on each cheek.

"It's so nice to see you, my dear, and twice in one day!" The blonde witch greeted. "I hope my son has made you feel welcome."

"Oh, he's done his best, I suppose. Only threatened to cannibalize me once though. He's not sick is he?" she questioned, looking up at him with false concern and bringing the backs of her fingers to his cheek to test his temperature.

Draco snorted and caught her fingers, bringing them to his mouth for a quick kiss before dropping her hand.

Narcissa smiled prettily at their display of affection.

"I wanted to thank you again for agreeing to the interview today. I know it must have been very hard for you to go through that. You were both very brave," Lyra said to Narcissa sincerely, squeezing Draco's arm.

Narcissa smiled weakly. "You would think that after being born into that kind of worldview, giving it up would feel like a betrayal of your ancestors," she said with a long sigh. "I honestly feel nothing. It feels like freedom. Maybe your great-great grandfather was the lucky one afterall," she mused sadly.

Lyra released Draco's arm and moved in next to his mother, leading her on a little stroll around the room. "Well, it wasn't all good, you know. One of my favorite stories about Phineas is how he ended up with food poisoning from the Southside fish markets three different times because his mother Ursula never taught him how to spell a cod. I mean, after one time you would think that he'd get on that! He could have died! I personally don't think he was the sharpest tool in the shed..."

Draco watched with amusement as Lyra told his mother stories about the fledgling misadventures of the Black family in America, making her laugh more than once, which was quite a feat. He couldn't believe this witch would even give them the time of day, let alone comfort his mother and provide him an anchor to the world after what his father and he had put her through. She was an incredible mystery and he felt like he could spend the rest of his life worshiping at her feet and it still wouldn't be enough.

A bell sounded and plates started appearing on the table from the kitchens below. Draco helped his mother and Lyra to their seats.

Lyra was more of a stew and whiskey kind of person, but did her best with the delicacies that were paraded before her during the meal. Draco informed his mother that Lyra was a sucker for pancakes and Lyra may have actually squealed at the fruit and chocolate crepes that appeared for dessert.

Lyra moderated her crepe consumption with herculean effort so Narcissa wouldn't think her a pig. She glanced forlornly at them as she left the room with Draco to retreat back upstairs for drinks. Mrs. Malfoy saw herself down to the kitchens to do some planning for tomorrow's menu.

"What would you like? We've got a bit of everything," he explained, motioning at the well stocked bar in the back of the sitting room. He spelled the curtains shut so they could move freely and joined Lyra who was examining the selection.

"It's half brandy," she mused.

He frowned at her. "I'm sorry for ruining that for you," he said sincerely.

She looked back up at him with a sad smile. "You should be." She gently checked his arm with her shoulder to lighten the mood. "I think that, as a penance, you need to find me something to replace it."

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "I'll give it a go," he said, installing himself behind the bar to do some alchemy for her.

Leaning on the bar top and resting her chin in her hand, she watched him work. He really was handsome, even more so when he was singularly focused on a task, like making a drink, learning a new spell or nailing her on a dining room table. Even without his attractive features, his intensity was sexy as hell.

Lyra bit her lip and felt the heat rise in her belly. Draco was oblivious to all of this, of course, which only served to make it worse. He plunked two tumblers down on the bar and filled them with a frothy amber concoction from a shaker. Lyra hadn't seen what he'd used because she'd been too focused on his face, his back, his hands.

"Try that," he said, pushing one of them towards her.

She responded by reaching across the bar, grabbing him by the collar and bringing him in for a long, languid kiss.

She pulled back eventually, and grabbed her drink, leaving Draco staring across at her cloudy-eyed and dazed.

"What was that for?" He asked with an easy smirk.

"You're good looking," she shrugged. "It really is a damn shame about your personality though," Lyra informed him, looking away and sipping on her drink.

He snorted and came around to stand next to her as she sipped. When she lowered her glass he moved in to kiss her again but she stopped him by putting her hand to his lips, never tearing her eyes from the drink in her hand.

"Oh my god," Lyra muttered.

"What?" Draco inquired, his warm breath puffing against her fingers.

"This is amazing. What's in this?" She asked, lowering her hand.

"Er, scotch with water, touch of clove and cardamom," he answered.

"You don't say," she mused, swirling the drink around. "I love it, thank you," she said pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

They enjoyed their drinks, leaning on the bar and finding excuses to touch each other. By the time they finished, Lyra had a pretty blush on her cheeks and was excitedly telling him something about her fight with Harry while he absently trailed his fingertips back and forth across one of her exposed collarbones.

"Come home with me," he interrupted in a husky voice.

Lyra was too distracted by his touch and the timbre of his voice to be mad at him for not paying attention. She looked up at him a moment, her breath quickening.

"I can't, I work tomorrow," she said in a heated whisper.

"I have a Floo, Lyra. You can get there the same way," he said undeterred.

"I...I don't have any clothes," she stuttered.

"You can wear my clothes," he said lowly as he pressed his whole hand, warm and heavy, into the skin over her heart. "Or, you know, no clothes."

She rolled her eyes at him and smirked, but pressed into his hand which he slid up to circle the back of her slim neck, pulling her in close to plant feather-light kisses along her hairline.

Lyra's aroused, scotch-addled train of thought went something like this: You _shouldn't go, Black. What are you doing? You're leading him on. Are you leading him on? I wonder if he'll put you on all fours if you ask. Holy shit...you should go._

She pulled away after a minute and quirked her eyebrow at him. "I'll tell you what, make me one more," she said shaking her glass, "and I'll go. But I'm running home first, for clothes."

He snatched the tumbler out of her small hand and practically lept back behind the bar to make them another round.

Narcissa entered at that moment and joined them for a drink, chatting innocently with them as the tension crackled between Draco and Lyra.

Lyra said goodnight to them and flooed back to the Savoy to throw a set of work clothes in a bag before hopping back in the fireplace to call out the address Draco had given her.

* * *

He was on her before she'd even stepped out. He pulled her to him roughly and slammed his lips into hers. She responded with equal fervor by tossing her bag aside and rushing her hands to the front of his shirt to remove his tie and undo his buttons. Draco started steering her by the hips towards his bedroom while she clumsily pulled the pins from her hair letting the length of it cascade down her back.

He fisted her dark hair in one of his hands and pulled firmly to extend her neck. The rough action made Lyra emit a throaty moan that Draco felt straight in his gut. He began sucking possessive little marks into the skin behind her ear and down to her chest.

They arrived in his bedroom and Lyra threw her arms around his neck, just hanging on to him, so she could catch her breath. He bent down to her and nuzzled his nose along hers, bringing their foreheads together.

"Turn around," he whispered.

She complied and brought her long hair over her shoulder to expose her back to him. He ghosted his fingers down the nape of her neck to the zip of her dress. He unzipped it at a maddeningly slow rate, peppering kisses along her shoulders. She sighed when, at long last, her dress fell to the ground at her feet.

He looked down at her naked back, nothing the appealing way that her spine curved gracefully into her firm ass which was tucked into a pair of low waisted black panties. He brought an arm around to her front and ran his hand along the outside of her sex over them. Her honey was already soaking through, which made him groan while she whined a little, leaning into his touch.

She turned to face him and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, following her movements with appreciative gazes at his body. She undid his belt and got his trousers and underwear down to the ground around his ankles. Draco did the rest, hopping out of his shoes and socks quickly to extend a hand to Lyra helping her step out of the dress pooled beneath her.

He pushed her by the hips to sit at the foot of the bed. "Move up, love," he said in a gravely voice.

Lyra went first to untie the ribbons of her heels.

"Leave them on," Draco directed her, in a serious tone.

She smirked at him and slid herself up the bed so she was laid out for him, her tan legs accented sensuously by the red satin of her shoes. She put her hands behind her head and crossed her legs at the ankle, looking the picture of ease. He grabbed her calves and uncrossed her legs slowly, spreading them wide across the bed. He reached up to remove her underwear and pulled back to look at her hotly for a moment before diving back in.

Lyra expected him to crawl up to her for some deep kisses before pushing himself inside her and fucking her until her brain was mush. She was not prepared for Draco to possessively latch on to her, burying his face between her thighs. "Oh my god," she moaned as his tongue hit her for the first time in forever. He ate her like the oysters at dinner, slowly and like he owned the damn place.

He was driving her crazy, applying the most dizzying combination of suction to her clit, long swipes between her folds and persistent rhythmic pressure with his fingers moving inside her. She found herself saying some very unladylike things to him about how he was making her feel. "Holy fuck, baby, you're so amazing."

The only response she got to that was a cocky grunt and the continued sound of her dripping sex making happy, wet sounds around his fingers.

When she could take it no longer, her body went rigid and her core pulsed around Draco's digits. She moaned his name as her hips sprang back to life in little thrusts as she came down and fell boneless back into the bed.

Her calves were wrapped around Draco's waist, squeezing him pleasantly with just a light scratch of her heels on his skin. That in addition to her sublime performance coming for him left him with an iron stiff erection pressing painfully into the bed under him...and also a hand cramp. _Small price to pay_.

He pulled back and rested his head on her lower abdomen while she carded her fingers through his soft hair and caught her breath.

"That was...holy hell..." she breathed.

He laughed and nuzzled into her hip.

 _Why is he so sweet right now?_ Lyra wondered, running her nails along his scalp. She found herself thinking back to the interview from earlier in the day. She knew it was hard for him to talk about that part of his life. He wasn't proud of it and knowing that his old rival wanted to be the one asking the questions...she got why he was upset. And hearing him talk...he'd spent a lot of time at the mercy of other people, being told what to do, how to think, who to be. Being abused. Being a pawn. It was unfair. _He's had a shit day...and kind of a shit decade. Give him something nice_ , she thought to herself.

Suddenly, Lyra had an idea. An incredible idea. "Baby, let me up," she commanded.

Draco grumbled in protest but freed her from under his weight.

Lyra pulled herself off the bed and stood, looking at the pile of clothes on the floor. She retrieved his black collared shirt and put it on, rolling up the sleeves and leaving it unbuttoned. She fluffed her hair out and turned back to Draco, hoping this, combined with her red heels, would have the desired effect.

His eyes shined dark, like mercury, as he looked at her in his clothes. The shirt parted perfectly to frame her breasts and trailed down to her upper thighs. He looked at the way her hips rounded beautifully and couldn't help fixating on the shining combination of her arousal and his spit glittering decadently on her inner thighs.

She chuckled and he realized he'd been staring for quite some time.

"See something you like?" She asked, innocently.

He stood and walked up to her, his erection bobbing salaciously as he moved. She smirked at him deviously before jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He backed them up to his bedroom wall and wasted no time in sliding inside her with a hard thrust. She was wet and swollen from her recent climax and the resistance she put up against his entry was exquisite and had him sighing deeply as he buried his face in her shoulder. She smelled like eucalyptus and cool rain wrapped in sandalwood. Wrapped in him. It was perfect. It was them. Together.

Lyra felt a little silly about it, but she loved that seeing her in his shirt drove him crazy. She also loved the feeling of his strong arms holding her up and the incredible depth he could reach inside her from this position.

"I love it when you go deep," she said with a sigh.

He slammed her back against the wall and changed his angle, plunging even further inside her. She cried out, losing herself in the feeling.

After several incredible minutes of hard fucking against the wall, Lyra felt a slight tremor in his arms. There was her chance. She really wanted this for her, but had a sneaking suspicion that he'd love it just as much, if not more. "Put me back on the bed, baby," she purred into his ear.

He carried her over and lowered her down gently. He was about to pitch his body on top of hers when she stopped him, sat up and put a hand on his chest. She kissed him deeply and desperately, throwing a little teeth in there at the end to give it an aggressive edge. She then stood and turned around, letting his cock paint a wet brushstroke against the soft flesh of her bottom.

She nuzzled the crown of her head into the space beneath his chin. "Like this. I want you to fuck me like this," she whispered before crawling to the center of the bed on her hands and knees.

The site of her ass being presented to him this way, peaking out from the edge of one of his dress shirts had him literally salivating. _Gods, I love this woman_ , he thought to himself as he moved up behind her and grabbed her forcefully by the waist, causing his little witch to squeak with delight.

He flipped up the edge of the shirt, revealing more of her perfect skin to him and brought her back towards him. He positioned his cock against her and made long thrusts over her engorged flesh, wetting himself again before guiding himself back inside. He pushed until his hips were flush with her soft curves. She arched beautifully and leaned back into him, seeking an even deeper connection.

"Gods, Lyra," he groaned.

She just whined and repeated the action, rounding her spine up like a cat, then slamming herself back down on him. That was it. He grabbed her and started fucking into her pliant body forcefully.

 _Holy shit, I think I'm going to be permanently crosseyed_ , Lyra thought to herself. "Don't stop, baby. Oh my god," she babbled to him in encouragement and he rewarded her with a extra hard thrust that made her scream his name.

Draco was getting close. He loved taking her this way, but he wanted more contact with her body. He gripped her hips firmly and sat back on his haunches, pulling her with him, his cock still buried inside her. He brought her back to his chest and banded his arms around her breasts and middle in a crushing embrace.

Lyra tilted her head back on to his shoulder for support, breathing airy moans in response to each thrust. She relocated his hand that was around her waist and placed it between her legs.

"I'm close," she breathed into his ear. "Touch me. Come inside me."

He grunted in response and sunk his teeth gently into her cloth covered shoulder.

He flicked roughly at her clit and she arched into his touch. She reached a hand around to grip him firmly by the back of the neck to keep him close to her.

"Don't let me go," she pleaded as she fell over the edge, shuddering in his arms.

"I've got you," he breathed into her hair as he lost himself in the molten grip of her climax. He pulled her as close to him as he could and groaned indecently as he came inside her in several hard pumps.

Lyra turned to jelly in his arms afterwards. She made a weak little noise of satisfaction and started planting lazy kisses along his jaw as he panted, coming down from his high. She sat into him a little deeper and clenched herself around his dick, which was softening inside her. It made Draco shiver.

"Merlin, witch. You're insatiable," he muttered into her hair.

She chuckled and nuzzled into his neck. "I just like you is all. Don't make it weird."

He squeezed her around the middle with his arms. "I like you too," he answered before pulling out of her and gently guiding her on to her back. He followed her, laying down on his side and placing his palm on her naked stomach, rubbing his thumb over the divot of her belly button. "And to think. You wasted all that time getting clothes. You look better in mine," he told her.

"Oh yeah? You didn't like the dress? Cuz I feel like you liked the dress," she quipped back at him.

"I liked the dress, but I like this more," he replied, trailing his hand down to the warm trim between her legs, now sticky with the fruits of their recent exploits.

"So I'll just wear this to work tomorrow then," she quipped deviously, arching her hips to press her mound into his hand.

He growled and yanked on her, pulling her back to his chest and spooning his body possessively around hers. "No," he said definitively.

She laughed, guiding one of his warm hands to cover an exposed breast, which he palmed appreciatively. "I'm cold, baby," she whispered to him with a yawn, snuggling into his arms.

He reached down for the comforter crumpled at the foot of the bed and threw it over them both before wrapping himself around her again and falling into a deep, sated sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Department**  
 **Friday Morning**

Lyra had to threaten Draco with a hex to get him to stop kissing her long enough for her leave for work in the morning. She'd already abandoned her breakfast to make out with him on the couch and decided to just grab coffee at the little stand in the visitors entrance to the Ministry.

She stepped out of the Floo into the atrium with a goofy grin on her face that was abruptly wiped away when she was greeted by the aggressive flashbulbs of the wizarding press. There had to be a hundred of them and they were shouting. Shouting her name.

"Miss Black!"

"Over here, Miss Black!"

 _What the fuck?_ Lyra thought to herself.

She ducked her head and started pushing her way through the throng.

"Miss Black, can you comment on your relationship with Mr. Malfoy?"

 _Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Is there any relationship between his father's arrest and his alleged disappearance?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Is he good in bed?"

Lyra felt a hand grip her upper arm and she flinched, preparing for a fight. She looked up to see a grim faced Zabini at her side followed by Gold.

"Step back!" Blaise yelled, pushing people out of the way with his body, leading her out of the crowd.

Flanked by Zabini and Gold she emerged from the fray and practically ran with them into an elevator.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" She yelled once they were moving.

"I could ask you the same question, Black," Zabini accused.

"What are you talking about? I thought they were over this!"

"Well lass, that was before someone got a snap of you snogging the life out of the Malfoy boy in the street," Gold said with a sardonic smirk.

"I..." Lyra balked. "I want to talk to Harry."

"By all means, but I have a feeling you won't enjoy that conversation," the younger wizard quipped.

"Shut up, Blaise." She sighed, rubbing her face in agitation. "And thank you. Thank you both."

"Don't mention it...heartbreaker," he joked.

She tugged roughly on his ear until he squealed, which had Gold rolling with laughter as the elevator brought them to the Auror's common.

Everybody predictably stared at her as the trio entered.

"Auror Black?"

"Yes, Colin?" She replied to the young wizard.

"Auror Shacklebolt would like to see you. Now," he replied.

"Yes, I imagine that he would," she fired back turning to the left back towards his office.

"Godspeed, lass." Gold called to her. She turned back to him and give him a little salute before continuing down the hall.

His door was open and he spotted her the instant she was outside.

"Get in here, Black," he said flatly.

She walked in, defending herself as she approached his desk. "Sir, I can explain. I mean, I don't really know what happened, but whatever happened I will explain the thing that may or may not have, in fact, happened..." she babbled.

"Where were you last night?" Harry fired at her from the corner.

She jumped and turned to face him. His face was a stone mask of judgement.

"I was...out," she stammered.

"Right. Well, I hope you had a good time. I tried to go see you to warn you about this mess and you were nowhere to be found! I guess I should have flooed over to Malfoy's, although who knows what I would have found if I had..."

"How dare you, Harry," Lyra said, truly shocked.

Harry's face broke a touch at her admonition. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off-

"Enough. The both of you," Shacklebolt interrupted. He threw a copy of the Daily Prophet down on his desk and Lyra saw what all the fuss was about.

 **Mystery Woman Involved in Malfoy Disappearance Case?**

Next to the lengthy article making gross speculations about who she was and what she knew was a large picture of her and Draco kissing passionately in the mist, just down the street from the little Indian restaurant they'd dined in earlier in the week. If it wasn't on her boss's desk, or next to an article making some sincerely moronic claims, she would like the photo. It was sweet, romantic even. She looked breathless and pretty and Draco looked handsome and absolutely smitten with her.

"Oh." Lyra huffed out.

"Let me guess. It's not what it looks like," Harry bit out accusingly.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Potter, but no. It's exactly what it looks like," Lyra fired back with cool confidence. _I am so done with this shit_ , she thought to herself.

"Lyra. Are you, alright?" Draco said, walking in without so much as a word to the two wizards in the room. "I saw the papers. Did you floo in through the atrium? What happened? Did anybody touch you?" He peppered her with questions, raising his hand to gently cup her cheek as he reached her.

She blushed fiercely but didn't avoid his touch, finding herself relieved to not be alone for the inquisition.

"No, I'm fine. I...I did. Zabini and Gold got me out. It was just a surprise. I'm sorry," she stammered out to him as if they were alone.

"Sorry for what?" He huffed in disbelief. "Look at it this way, now the press knows I've still got it. Beautiful witch in my arms, and whatnot. It's you I feel bad for. Brilliant Auror caught slumming with an ex-criminal and drug-addict," he explained, rubbing her arm gently.

"Stop," she said to him softly, putting her hand to his chest. His uncharacteristic self-deprecation was making her feel uncomfortable.

"Mr. Malfoy, so nice of you to join us," Kingsley spoke from behind his desk.

"Auror Shacklebolt, what can I do to help keep her safe from your perspective? Anything. You name it. I'll hire personal security, I'll do a press conference. You tell me. I'm at your disposal," Draco said coolly to the old wizard behind the desk.

Shacklebolt opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Harry who came out of the corner, exploding-

"Well obviously her safety means fuck all to you, Malfoy. So come off it," he railed.

"Harry, you don't know what you're talking about," Lyra began.

"That's great, coming from you, you let her die!" Draco spat, guiding Lyra behind him and walking towards the dark haired wizard.

"Well, clearly that's not true," Lyra began again.

"YOU BLEW UP MY HOUSE, YOU KILLED MY FRIEND AND NOW YOU'VE SOMEHOW WEASELED HER WAY BACK INTO HER GOOD GRACES LIKE THE SLIMY LITTLE FERRET YOU ARE!" Harry bellowed.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Lyra muttered, leaning back on Shacklebolts desk to watch the drama unfold.

"Brilliant. Here we go again, Potter. It's like a bloody formula with you. Yell about your house, try and take ownership of my witch and call me a rodent. I could write them for you and save you the trouble," Malfoy fired calmly, as if bored.

 _Well...he kind of has a point there_ , Lyra thought, glossing over his possessive overtones.

"You alright?" Shacklebolt asked her quietly from behind his desk as the two young wizards carried on arguing.

"I'm fine," she replied with a heavy sigh. "How do you deal with all this faux-chivalry bullshit? It's like the 1950's only with slightly better teeth and hair," she mused.

"Try being gay, and then tell me all about it," he shot back over the shouts.

Lyra laughed. "You know, after this...I'm considering it. Look at these idiots. I should just run off with Ginny Potter and Narcissa Malfoy. It'd be great. Think about all the outfits...and baked goods. My god, it would be paradise. You come too. Bring your husband. You don't really want to be Minister, do you?" she joked.

He let out a booming laugh that got the attention of both Draco and Harry who turned back to them, both looking shocked and incredulous.

"Kingsley, I hardly see how this is funny," Harry began.

"We really do need to come up with a concrete plan to ensure her safety," Draco interrupted.

"Would the two of you just fuck already and be done with it?" Lyra fired at them.

Both wizards made identical looks of disgust.

"Un-frigging-believable, both of you! Carrying on like spoiled brats!" She cried. "You" she said pointing at Draco, "I expect a certain degree of spoiled bratness out of you because it's in your genes and I will deal with you later, but YOU-" she accused pointing at Harry "you owe me about fifty fucking apologies for the way you spoke to me just now. Like I'm some slut without a mind of her own. Like I owe you any explanation whatsoever about where I go or who I screw. I told you not a day ago that I would have your back when you needed me. I can see now that was a unilateral offer. I am SO disappointed in you," she bit out with embarrassed tears welling in her hazel eyes.

"Kingsley, I need a few minutes," she said to her boss.

"Go. I'll deal with these two," he replied to her, pinning Harry and Draco with a hard stare.

"Thank you," she murmured, fleeing for the exit.

"Lyra-" Harry protested.

"Sweetheart-"Draco began.

She walked out of the room and slammed the door with her wand.

* * *

She stamped out past the common, where she could feel everybody's eyes on her and made her way back to the little library in the rear of the department. She planted herself forlornly in a chair and reclined, closing her eyes.

"Good Morning, Auror Black," came a gentle voice from the corner.

"Jesus!" She jumped, turning to identify the voice. "Simpkins, don't do that!"

"Sorry," he replied.

"It's fine. Sit down, kid," she huffed, hanging her head back.

The black haired wizard sat across from her, depositing a stack of books in front of him.

"Whatcha reading?" She asked, looking for any distraction from her shit day.

"Just some odd bits on legilimency," he shrugged.

"Oh? Anything good?" She inquired.

"Some. I'm reading Beck's postulations on visualizing subversion of defenses as the laying of a train track," he explained.

Lyra nodded. "I know it. Do you use it?" She asked.

"I try to, but I feel like it slows me down to think of a breech in terms of something done piece by piece," he admitted.

"I think you're entirely correct. I think he made a lot of money helping people practice safe and slow legilimency, and that's not a bad thing, when you have time and you want a predictable progression of the skill. I will tell you that I don't know a single legilimens that I would call outstanding that uses the Beck method," she replied.

"What do you use?" He asked.

"What I use doesn't have a name, but I think of it as breech by water. Ok, so you take your walls, right? You could spend all day Becking track around them OR you can layer your offensives in like little streams," she explained, talking with her hands. "A track runs you in a single direction, but water gives you ephemera and you can go everywhere at once and start chipping away at the barriers. It's certainly less grand than the track, but it's harder to detect, harder to stop and in my opinion, faster once you get the hang of it."

"Breech by water," he mused.

Lyra sighed. "I wanna do this with you, man, but I'm having a not great morning and I need to know if all I'm gonna see when I jump into your brain is what a hussy you think I am," she said to him flatly.

Simpkins gasped adorably. "I don't think you're a hussy," he replied. "I think you're bossy...and frightening," he confessed.

"Well, I'm fine with that," she replied with a smile. "Let's go."

They worked for about two hours and by the end Simpkins had remarkably improved. At the onset, Lyra would have characterized his legilimency as "better than a nobody off the street but not good enough for an Auror specializing in it," by the end, she would call him "straight-up good." Good wasn't great, but she didn't come across many people in her work that were even 'good.' She was immeasurably proud of him. He wasn't a huge natural talent but he was incredibly hard working and, to be honest, she liked that more than talent any day.

"Dude! DUDE! That was so. much. better, holy crap!" Lyra chirped at him excitedly. "How does it feel now, the water? I know it's super weird at first, but you are doing really well with it."

"I quite like it, actually," he replied, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead.

"You'll get even better, I know it," she encouraged. "Some people have a talent for legilimency and most of those people never reach their full potential. Think of it this way. How do you make a path in the grass? By walking over it over and over again. How do you make a path in your mind? Exact same way. Practice. People with the 'touch' typically have this sense of entitlement that fools them into believing they don't need to grit like everyone else. They would be wrong. You could run laps around those people. You will run laps around them."

"You're a good teacher," he said with a small smile.

"And you are an excellent student," she replied grinning. "Thanks, Simpkins. I needed something good from today and you were it."

He blushed and looked away.

"So...have you talked to Azalea at all?" She inquired. The blonde witch was still everywhere in his thoughts.

His blushed deepened. "I think she's interested in someone else."

"You mean Blaise? I will give you that there is a compatibility there, but that's not necessarily the same."

"He's rich, well-bred and a bloody good Auror. What's not to like?" The wizard lamented.

"Oh, I dunno, the casual misogyny, the ceaseless flirtation, the playboy lifestyle. I could go on. Would you like me to?" She offered.

He laughed. "No, that'll do just fine, thanks."

"I mean it. Girls like that shit. Women are different. Women like partners who commit. Partners who work hard. That is more you than Zabini, no offense to him...although give me a pint and I'd probably say it to his face," Lyra mused. "Now, I'm not gonna say I have any idea how she feels about you, because I don't. But I do know you have plenty of good qualities and your work ethic isn't just a good thing on the job. It's good in relationships too, so don't take it for granted."

He looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. "Can I ask you a personal question?" He asked.

She smiled. "Well, I'd rather you than the ever enthusiastic press, so sure. Why not," she replied.

"Malfoy. Does he have a good work ethic?" The wizard asked.

"Oh you crafty bastard..." she began. She took a second to think and decided to tell him the truth. "Historically? No, not really. Now? I have no fucking idea."

"Does that scare you?" He wondered.

"Dude, what are you, part shrink? Um...I dunno, I guess it does. I don't know what to call this...thing and so I'm not sure if it's time for me to care about that or not," she said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Do you think it possible he's changed?"

"Yeah, I suppose, but again I don't know that that's something that's really my business at this stage," she answered.

"Hmmm," he mused.

"What's Hmmm?...I will read your mind right now, so help me god," she huffed.

"You look good together," he shrugged. "When I saw you two in the paper this morning I just thought, 'Oh well, now that makes sense.' I hope it goes well for you," he said genuinely.

"Huh. Well, thank you," she replied.

"I have to go train with Gold, but I appreciate you taking the time," he said, rising from his chair and gathering his books.

"What? Oh...yeah sure. Anytime," she replied, lost in her own thoughts.


	36. Chapter 36

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday**

Draco found her hiding in the library, absentmindedly thumbing through a book on the the Second Wizarding War. He was nervous to approach her after the events of the morning. He wasn't sure what to expect. He lowered himself tentatively into the chair across from her at the table. She eyed him skeptically as he did so.

"Lyra, I..." he paused and took a breath. "Potter and me will always fight like cats in a bin but it's no excuse for how I behaved."

Lyra raised her eyebrow at him and put her book down. "You used to say that same thing about us," she mused. "Cats in a bin. Here's the thing about cats, kid...When it's cold and dangerous, they still sleep in a pile to protect each other and survive. Maybe that's us but it's not what's going on in between you and Harry. What you two do transcends all sense. You're still trying to punish each other for shit that happened ages ago. Shit that has nothing to do with us. If you guys want to have it out so bad, fine, but not like this. Not through me. Please," she whispered tiredly, shutting her eyes.

Draco nodded and reached out for her hand, which she gave him willingly, lacing her fingers with his. "Potter told me what he said to you. Would you like me to have him murdered?" Draco offered sweetly.

Lyra chuckled. "No. You leave him to me," she replied.

"I'm sorry about all this. The press, the exposure. My mum's kind of a master of PR, so I've asked her to stop by this afternoon, if that's alright with you, of course," he added.

Lyra settled her cheek in her palm and rubbed her fingers anxiously against his. "Honestly, I don't see what it could hurt at this point. My Dad's coming in tonight too, as if there wasn't enough going on." she sighed.

"Are you going to tell him?" Draco asked.

"Well, he's probably going to wonder why the press is tailing me everywhere, asking me about an Ex I haven't mentioned in years," Lyra replied, looking miserable.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to make a decision here," he said softly.

"About what?" She asked.

"About us. So far as it seems, all anyone knows is what's in that picture. We can spin it as a one off, or we can own it and admit that we're...whatever it is that we are," he hesitated. "If you want to stop, you say the word. It stops. We fight this off and leave it at that," he said, trying to sound like that wouldn't destroy him. "If you want to continue, and even if you don't, you'll have my absolute discretion. You'll have the last word on what goes public, when and how. You will also have every resource I own or can acquire to keep you save and keep people out of our business," he confessed to her.

"That's a very serious way to ask someone to be your fuck buddy," she noted.

Draco grimaced. "That's not the term I would use."

"What term would you use?" She asked.

"Girlfriend. Lover. Partner. Whatever you want," he replied evenly.

Lyra stared at him in surprise, like she'd never seen him before and he just apparated into the room. She blushed and looked down at their hands. Now, in the bedroom, she knew Draco was the kind of person who would give her whatever she wanted, because he liked watching her come apart. He was generous in that particular way, but this was different. This was in public. People would see her comparative roughness and judge her for her pushy American ways. This was cameras and questions on her. On them. Together. It was something she didn't think he would have done for her ten years ago, not that she would have wanted the attention. She didn't know what to say.

"I want us to have time. Time to fumble, time to see if there's potential here, time to talk about...all the scars," she mumbled dejectedly.

"And time, unfortunately, is exactly what we don't have," he replied.

"Why? Why do we have to address it at all?" She questioned, pulling away from him and sitting back in her chair.

Draco sighed. "Because, sweetheart, with things like this, if you say nothing, people will just start saying things for you, typically untrue things. You have to do what my mother calls 'controlling the narrative,'" he explained.

"I just feel like we're being forced into this. Like we have to call it something just to retain the ability to find out if it really is something," she complained.

He tried to mask his hurt at her words, but she saw it.

"Draco, I'm just trying to be honest, here. I really don't know. I mean you killed me a week ago, you know? You also broke my fucking heart when we were kids," she began.

"Wait. What about what you just said about me and Potter. About punishing people for things that happened years ago," he countered.

"I'm not mad at you about it, and I have no intention of punishing you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I trust you either. I mean, look at it from my perspective. The last interaction I had with you when we were young was you putting me on a plane after fucking me senseless for three days and then never speaking to me again. One of my father's last letters to me ever, before he died, was basically a Dear Jane by proxy telling me that, despite being in the middle of a goddamned war, you'd moved on to a worthier woman," Lyra shut her eyes against the tears.

She really didn't want to do this now, or ever, but if she was going to do this, was going to do it right. She inhaled shakily. "I was so angry," she whispered. "And I was afraid you were going to die...and then Severus died and I had nobody to..." she shook her head trying to keep her composure. She looked over to Draco to see an anguished look plastered across his handsome face.

"I'm sorry, but I have to finish this," she said sympathetically.

He nodded, looking down.

"So that was the last, and now my reintroduction to you has been a crash course in how your family's dysfunction knows no boundaries. It reached across the ocean and it found me. It came to me. Threatened me. Made me bleed. Made me run for my life." She clenched her fists nervously.

"You said to me in the ballroom that I wanted to save you. That it was my reason for being in that room. But really, that was the least of it and, in the end...you were wrong. I was in that room for Scorpius. I didn't want him crushed under the weight of your father's bullshit just because he was born to a name. That's why I stayed. That's why I fought. I was..." she took a shaky breath. "When you told me what you did, that you'd poisoned me. I was ready to kill you. I was trying to kill you," she whispered. "For you, the thing I wanted more than anything was...that I just didn't want you to be someone who'd killed his own son, but that...that didn't require that you live, just that you be stopped."

Draco nodded again in understanding, wiping away a tear.

"He was the last thing I saw, you know," she mused, looking off into space.

"Who was?" Draco asked in a soft, strained voice.

"Before I lost consciousness," she explained. "I saw Scorpius, playing with that little train he has, the one that makes the smoke and I was okay with it. Okay with dying. For him. Not for you. At that point, I was pretty much like fuck you...no offense. I mean, I felt bad for you or whatever, but not enough to die for you."

Draco gave a somber huff, but said nothing. They sat in silence for a few moments before Lyra spoke again.

"I forgive you," she said, her voice thick. "All of it. But I can't promise I won't fuck it up and neither can you. Look at us. We fuck up. It's just...what we do."

Draco shook his head and buried his face in his hands. She let him be alone for awhile but then went over to him, pulled him up for a hug and let him drop his tears into her hair.

He squeezed her close, inhaling the scent of her and let her go, wiping his eyes. "Alright. When my mother arrives, we'll come up with a plan. We'll stop. We'll shut it down," he said, not meeting her gaze.

Lyra furrowed her brow. "No. I don't want that," she replied.

"What do you want?" He asked, confused.

"What I want is to find out, but if we're going to do this, then we're going to fucking do this and it has to start with the truth. If not, there's no point," she said softly.

"What?" Draco asked, looking down at her in shock.

Lyra started to tremble. "I...I guess...I mean...I think I want to keep sleeping in a pile with you for now...like just for safety and stuff until we can figure everything out," she mumbled, not looking up at him, cheeks burning. "Protect each other and survive," she said, parroting her earlier words.

Draco didn't know what to say, so he simply held her until his heart rate returned to normal and he could think again. He used a finger on her chin to get her to look up at him. "I can't think of anything more romantic than that to an old Slytherin like me," he said cracking a heart breaking smile.

She smiled back at him timidly.

"So, we're doing this?" He asked.

"I suppose so," she replied, nervously.

"We can go back. Do the courtship thing. Stop having sex. Anything you want," Draco offered.

Lyra made a grumpy face. "What?! No! Are you crazy?! Media scrutiny? Investigations? Public trial? Do you want me to go nuts?! No! Absolutely not! The fucking continues until morale improves!"

He laughed loudly and nuzzled her hair with his nose.

He nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," she answered.

"Why would you even give me a chance? Don't get me wrong, I want it. But if you had kicked my teeth in when you saw me on Monday, I would have understood. What was that like for you?" He asked.

Lyra furrowed her brow. "Well, I was surprised to see you, but I think the exact thing I thought before I passed out was 'Fuck you, Frog. You were supposed to be food,' and I completely stand by that sentiment," she joked. "But after, when we talked, you were just you. The quips, the sarcasm, the temper, It was all still there. It was like finally, in the middle of all this mess, in the sea of new faces, there was one I recognized. It made me feel so...relieved. I didn't realize it until I saw you standing there, how desperately I just needed someone who knew me," she explained.

"As for why I wanted to give you a chance...the kicker? You ate the curry. Ten years ago you would have shoved me out the door, into a private car and then forced me into some overpriced bistro for escargot and port. That's an interesting change and I want to see where it leads," she added with a shrug.

"But do I make you happy?" He questioned softly.

She narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Yes. And you make me angry, and confused and frustrated too. It's almost like you're a complicated person capable of arousing an entire range of emotions in other people. If what you expect is to make me happy all the time, you're in for a world of disappointment," she replied honestly, powering through the dissatisfied look he made with his attractive face.

"Look, you make me feel beautiful and cared for. You keep me incredibly sexually satisfied and the way you look at me sometimes..." she sought to elaborate, but trailed off.

"What?" He asked, looking down at her with the exact same look she was thinking about.

She signed, looking up at him evenly. "It's devotion. Absolute devotion. It makes be nervous and scares me and I adore it and I don't know what to do with it."

He gave her a break from his staring by leaning in and kissing her forehead.

"Draco, I don't know what to do. I mean, I don't know how to do cameras and and everything. You know me. You know what happens when I get nervous. I ramble and I say too much. I just...I don't want to get up there and end up babbling about how Narita Simhai pulled my skirt over my head in our 2nd year," she said anxiously to him, grabbing his hands.

"Now, I actually love that story," he replied, running his thumbs soothingly over the backs of her hands.

"You love any story that involves the exposure of my butt," she countered.

"Not generally unless I'm the one doing the exposing," he said down at her with a little smirk.

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the soft fabric of his shirt. It was the one he'd worn for breakfast, he hadn't even changed. He brought his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"What should I call you, out of curiosity?" He asked, tentatively.

"I dunno, Lyra, I guess," she joked at him. "I don't care. Well...anything but lover. That makes you sound like a skeevy old guy on a swinger's cruise," she griped into his chest.

He laughed. "Right."


	37. Chapter 37

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday**

"Oh, thank the gods!" Narcissa exclaimed, startling Draco and Lyra out of each other's arms. "I was so worried about what I'd find when I got here. Honestly, the media in this country. Bored and uninspired are the words that come to mind," she complained. "Draco, my love, don't just stare at me, show Lyra to a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

Draco turned his head to Lyra who had a shocked look on her pretty face. He could tell she was nervous. He didn't want his mother scaring her with all this.

He put a hand on her lower back reassuringly and guided her to a chair. Before she sat he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "This is just to get ideas." He pulled a chair up to sit closely beside her and put a hand on her knee under the table to remind her she wasn't alone. Were it up to him, she'd never be alone again.

"Well. First things first," Narcissa said lowering herself into a chair across from them. "You two have decided to present yourselves as a couple, yes?"

Draco looked to Lyra, letting her take the lead. "Yes," Lyra replied softly, the heat rising in her cheeks.

"I'm so happy! What a lovely picture you make, not to make light of present events," she chirped excitedly. "I mean, truly. The contrast between the two of you aesthetically is just stunning. Light and dark. Tall and short. Good and evil-"

"Draco's not evil," Lyra protested.

"I know that, darling, but to the press and to the public he is. That, unfortunately, is the Malfoy brand," she said with a shrug. "I know it sounds bad, but it's little more than a perceived contrast that makes your relationship more compelling. It will be important in getting people on your side."

"Why do we need people to be on our side? This has nothing to do with them," Lyra stated forlornly.

"You're right, it doesn't, but that's never stopped anybody before. Once the trial begins and everything else comes out people are going to start editorializing and we have to steer what they conclude. Are you two imbalanced people thrown together by trauma or a couple that has known each other for years and was reunited by terrible circumstances who have chosen to make something beautiful out of it," Narcissa explained.

"How the hell are we supposed to do that? I don't even know which one of those is true?!" Lyra exclaimed.

"By presenting a strong united front," the blonde witch replied.

"Ok, but who really gives a damn what people think of us?" Lyra pressed.

"The Wizengamot might. The solicitors arguing for your father might," she retorted, looking over to her son. "People love scandal. They love distraction. When the time comes for the spotlight to be on Lucius and all of the terrible things he's done, the last thing you want is for people to be dreaming up salacious gossip about what you two are doing behind closed doors. Tell them, control the information and be done with it."

Lyra inhaled warily, looking over at her boyfriend(?) who seemed maddeningly unperturbed by all of this. "Ok, go on," Lyra said.

"If you let me, I'd like to get an interview set for the two of you. They provide more nuance than a press statement and do more for likability. Essentially, it will give you more privacy and yield a better result. Would you be willing to do it?" Mrs. Malfoy directed at them both.

"Only if she wants," he answered.

Narcissa looked at Lyra expectantly. She sighed and warily nodded her head.

"Great. I'll reach out to Griselda Figg at The Prophet. She covers education typically. She's not a society reporter likely to go for the most divisive bit of gossip she can dig her claws into. She's a good writer and she's very skilled at conveying the emotions of her subjects," Narcissa explained. "I think we should do it at the townhouse. Sit the two of you down on a couch, perfectly styled of course, and have you spin things in your favor. You two tell a very sweet story in your own right. It's the kind I would read."

"What do we say? I mean, how much of our lives do we have to put on display so people can get a warm and fuzzy over their morning toast?" Lyra questioned miserably.

"Probably not as much as you think," Draco said to her. "People don't care about words, they care about the feelings the words create. If we can generate the right feeling during the interview, it sounds to me like this reporter will run with it and do the talking for us."

Narcissa beamed at her son proudly. "So clever," she chirped.

"I don't know how to generate a feeling," Lyra mumbled, looking down at her lap.

Draco brought his hand to smooth over the back of her neck. "That's not true. Plus, you won't be alone," he reassured her.

She nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"What specifically are you nervous about?" He asked.

Lyra blushed, not wanting to get into it in front of Narcissa.

"Sweetheart, if this is going to work, we need to talk about it," he pressed.

"Just that I'm...you know...American and crass. I'll come off like a phony...in your perfect sitting room with my accent, trying desperately not to say fuck while I'm dressed to the nines," she explained.

Draco laughed and Lyra pinned him with a hard stare.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm not laughing at you," he said rubbing her back gently. "Alright, some idiots out there might have a problem with you being a foreigner, but those people are wankers and will always find something to complain about. It's not about you. It's about them being miserable cunts," he explained.

"Draco!" Lyra and Narcissa reprimanded him at the same time.

"What?! My girlfriend is crass, which means I'm crass too," he replied.

Lyra tried her hardest to retain her look of offense, but she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face.

"Baby, there's crass and then there's...the c-word," she said to him.

"You mean, cunt?" He questioned.

"DRACO!" Lyra and Narcissa shouted him down again.

"I was wrong before," Lyra said looking at Mrs. Malfoy. "He IS kinda evil."

"Yes, I'm aware," Narcissa retorted with a narrow look at her son, who was grinning happily at the feather-ruffling he'd just afflicted on his two favorite women.

They talked awhile longer about the interview. In light of the impending weekend, they decided to put it off until Monday.

"It's important, I think to give some kind of confirmation today. Like a simple yes or no. A press statement is too clinical and given the way the story broke, a visual indicator would be more effective," Narcissa mused.

"I am not going to stand in the street and make out with your son in front of the press," Lyra fired, looking over at Draco who just shrugged. "No! That picture from Wednesday only worked because we didn't know we were being photographed. I am not going to just give them that. That...it's ours," Lyra said quietly.

Draco's expression softened at her words. "You're absolutely right," he said contritely, squeezing her hand.

Narcissa widened her eyes in surprise. That was an atypical response for Draco, to say the least.

"Well, maybe we could stage a date," the blonde witch offered.

"I can't. I have to go out to Heathrow today to pick up my dad at six," she explained.

Draco looked down at his watch and saw that it was after two. "I imagine you'd like to change, so that really doesn't give us much time. Not to mention that I'm hardly dressed for the camera."

"No. I've already prepared for that," Narcissa explained placing her handbag on the table. "I've everything you need. For you both."

Draco and Lyra looked at her like she was crazy.

"What?! I just wanted to be prepared, like I said," she explained sweetly.

"So what?" Lyra asked. "Draco and I are going to get all pretty and..."

Narcissa inhaled deeply, preparing herself for the impending argument. "And then you leave together ensuring you are seen. The atrium is still crawling with photographers..."

Lyra looked as if she'd been slapped. Draco groaned.

"It achieves our goal and it's the fastest way to see it done. Walk out, leave through the visitors entrance, go out into Muggle London and put her in a car for Heathrow," she reasoned to her son.

"I mean, can we just die instead?" Lyra mused sarcastically, which Draco didn't see the humor in, given that they both had just nearly died.

"Ugh. I don't want to do this," she pleaded to him.

"Then we won't do it, but understand that if we did, it wouldn't be like this morning. I'd be with you the whole time," he tried to soothe her.

"Do I have to talk?" She whimpered.

"Not unless you want to. If anything needs saying, I'll do it," he replied.

Lyra leaned forward on the table, burying her blushing face in her arms and reluctantly nodded her assent to nobody in particular.

"I know how hard this is for you, dear. It will take ten minutes of your time and send exactly the message we want," Narcissa said, running her hand over Lyra's dark head, looking up at her son who gave her a small nod.

"Do you want me to do your makeup for you?" Narcissa offered, wondering if it would help.

Lyra peeked her head up from over her arms. "Can you charm my eyelashes long like yours?" She questioned softly.

Narcissa smiled. "Of course I can."

The blonde witch threw open her spelled handbag and started pulling out clothes, cosmetics and jewelry enough to outfit a chamber choir.

She directed Draco to a black on black suit that looked uncomfortably similar to the one he had worn the night he attacked her. He saw Lyra eyeing it warily and looked back to his mother. "Needs color."

"Hmm, I think the effect would be better without, but if you must, add some green. It looks good on you and won't surprise anybody," she replied dispassionately.

She brought Lyra several options all in varying shades of white or cream. She helped her into a form fitting sheath dress in downy white. It had a stylish boatneck and from the waist down had a spattering of small glinting beads that increased in density down the skirt which terminated at her knee. She paired it with a white jacket of equal length that had an interesting diagonal zip. She put her in emerald drop earrings and pinned a brooch to the jacket. A diamond fox with emerald eyes.

Lyra laughed down at the glittering animal.

"What's funny, dear?" Narcissa inquired, sitting her in a chair and covering her with a drape to begin her makeup.

"Oh nothing. It's just, my patronus is a fox. So, needless to say, I like the pin," she explained.

Narcissa paused, looking down at her fondly. "So is Draco's."

"It is still?" Lyra asked, feeling strangely smug that it hadn't changed.

Narcissa nodded at her with a small smile and began her makeup. She gave her smokey eyes, which made her irises look like amber, popping dramatically out of her face. She kept the rest natural, gave her a subtle pink lip and charmed her eyelashes like she'd promised. She pulled her hair back into a simple french twist and stood back to admire her work.

It was about that time that Draco walked back in to the library, after his mother banished him so she could work on Lyra. Draco and Lyra locked eyes with each other and were both struck dumb. He was in black with dark green accents on his wrists, pocket and tieclip. He looked mouthwatering...and dangerous.

Lyra looked like an angel with butterscotch eyes. She glittered in white with emerald accents and looked like a gorgeous, high society witch, only better because he was in love with her.

"Wow," he said awkwardly to her, causing her to blush.

"You look hot," she said with her typical brashness.

He laughed and leaned in to kiss her but was stopped by the bothersome meddling of his mother who chastised him with a line about messing up her lip tint or some other rubbish.

"Ok, stand next to each other," Narcissa chirped, pushing them together. "Oh my goodness! You two look perfect. It's perfect. Ready?"

Lyra stopped ogling Draco and jerked back to attention. "What now?!"

"Well, yes. That was sort of the point," Mrs. Malfoy offered gently.

Lyra exhaled nervously. "Yeah. I'll have to stop by and tell Kingsley. Could we have Blaise escort us out? He cleared a path for me this morning and I'd feel safer with a quick wand out there since this dress is so tight it'll take me a minute to get to mine," she directed at Draco.

"Anything you want, Sweetheart," he replied seriously.

Narcissa levitated everything back into her purse and kissed them both on the cheek before leaving to floo home.

Draco turned to Lyra and settled a hand on her waist. "Are you sure about this?" He asked.

"Hell no. But I trust your mom." she said to him, trying to control her fidgeting.

He pulled her to his chest suddenly and nibbled on one of her ears, causing her to gasp and melt into him. "I'll go first, I'll be right there. You stay behind me, alright?" He said to her before leading her out of the library into the corridor.

She looked up at him and nodded before stopping him. "Wait. What do I do with my face?"

He laughed. "Just what you're doing," he replied amused.

"Are you gonna do your Draco scowl?" She asked.

He grinned. "Most definitely."

"Oh...should I do it?" She asked innocently.

"I don't know if you've got the stuff, little tart like you," he teased.

She rewarded him with a mighty scowl and he kissed her on her forehead before leading her on.

"I stand corrected," he conceded.

They made it to the common, causing the room to fall silent when they entered. Shacklebolt was there talking to Colin. He looked up at them and balked. Lyra dropped Draco's arm and walked over to him.

"Do you mind if I go out to the wolves and then take off to get my dad? It's Narcissa's idea. We're going to let them get a few snaps and follow it up with an interview on Monday to get ahead of the bullshit," she sighed. "But if you have any piece of scrap paper that needs filing or a cobweb that needs cleaning, or an impossible suicide mission that needs raiding, just let me know because I can totally stay," she said to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

"Go on then," he said warmly before leaning into her. "You look stunning...and so does he. Chin up. Give my best to your father," he said with a reassuring squeeze on her arm.

She smiled timidly up at him. "Oh, would you mind if we borrowed Zabini for an escort? This dress is so damn complicated, my wand is like...in my back right now," she explained.

"I'll do it," Harry said from behind her.

She turned to look at him severely, but said nothing.

"I want to do it," he said walking up to her. "I was awful to you. I'm so sorry, Lyra. Forgive me," he pleaded to her in a subdued whisper.

"Do you think I'm a slut?" She asked him at conversational volume.

"Of course not."

"Are you going to let Ginny keep her earrings?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Are you going to keep calling my boyfriend a rodent?"

"Wha...well, I mean...probably?" He replied honestly, knowing she wouldn't likely believe he'd stop.

"Good. That was a trick question. And when he really is being a rodent, I encourage you to feel free," she replied, looking over to Draco who was comfortably out of earshot.

"Thank you very much for that," Harry replied in genuine relief.

"Are you going to let us help you with your inquiry so you can keep your job?" She asked.

Harry balked at her, confused. "Why would you do that? Why would he do that?"

"Because I'm your friend so I'm going to help you and I'm his girlfriend so he's going to help me," she replied plainly.

"Ok, yes," he answered.

"Then come on, what the hell?! I don't have all day! These thirsty reporters want a piece...and ohmygod Harry I'm so fucking nervous right now I might puke on you..." she fired out in a rush.

He laughed. "I will allow it. This one time." He steered her back to Draco who simply raised a snotty eyebrow at him in greeting.

"Right, I'll lead you out. Lyra, you let Malfoy take the hits, yeah? His skull is thicker." Harry bit out with a smirk at the scowling blonde. Lyra squeezed into Draco's side and tried to hide her trembling, but gave a weak little nod at her friend.

Harry turned and led them up the stairs into the horizontal lift that would bring them to the atrium. As they traveled, Harry watched Malfoy mutter reassurances to Lyra, keeping her close to him at all times. He had to hand it to him, she was in a better state by the time the doors opened.

Lyra saw the press right away. There weren't so many as before but there were still about fifty people waiting to flash their cameras and fire off their insulting questions. _Fuck every one of these fucks_ , Lyra thought to herself. They stepped out of the elevator and she vaguely heard the first of the reporters shout out to them. She looked up at Draco and saw his face, schooled hard as stone, into his trademark scowl. She took a deep breath and did her best to keep her face looking unconcerned.

They rushed in on them like a plague of locusts. Lyra did as she'd been told and kept a half pace behind Draco. She held his hand in a white knuckle grip and had her other hand on his bicep to ensure they wouldn't be separated. The reporters were mostly calling her name, trying to get her to engage. She heard one of them ask her what it felt like to be fucking a war criminal.

"How dare you talk to her, you filthy slime!" Draco fired haughtily at the greasy, red-faced reporter who'd asked the question.

"Why don't you let her speak for herself, Mr. Malfoy? Hey there, Beauty! Blink three times if he's holding you against your will!" The reporter shot back.

Lyra eyed him and dived into his mind immediately.

 _Blimey, she is gorgeous. I can't believe that Death Eater scum gets inside her. Wonder if Gerrit could drop his camera and get a peak under that dress for us..._

The reporter leaned over to whisper something to his pudgy cameraman who smirked and gave him a nod. _Oh great_ , Lyra thought. The photographer made a dramatic move like someone had knocked into him from behind and let the camera fall from his hands, sending it on a trajectory that would have it landing right between Lyra's white pumps. Since she was anticipating it she swooped down and caught it clumsily with her free hand. The shutter went off, but didn't capture anything as it was crushed into her side with her forearm.

She smiled shyly and handed it back to the man. "I hope you're alright. That could've turned out bad for both of us," she said sweetly, before pinning the reporter next to him with a steely gaze. The men sputtered out some awkward thanks, and backed off.

She tucked herself back into Draco, following him and Harry through the crowd to the Red Telephone booth that would lift them out into Muggle London. As they moved, she could hear the word _American_ being hissed around the throng of reporters.

After the altercation, Lyra felt fine. These were just people. I mean, some of them were awful, creepy people, but she dealt with those people all the time in her work and she could handle it. She lifted her head, made her eyes smolder like warm honey and did her best pretty peacock for the cameras.

As they reached the telephone booth, Draco passed her off to Harry who ushered her inside first. She pecked him on the cheek and smirked at him, as if they hadn't just had a huge fight. "Thanks, man!" She whispered to him.

He laughed. "Anytime," he replied as Draco pressed past him into the booth.

Harry shut the doors, locking her and Draco inside.

She waited for a moment before looking up at him. "So, let's never do that again," she said as the box started to rise, leaving the chaos below them.

He looked down at her, giving her an amused smile. "No argument from me."

"Did I do good?" She asked him expectantly.

He brought his hands to her waist and pulled her towards him. "You were brilliant. What was up with that cameraman?"

She launched excitedly into her story about the pervert reporter and his creepshot henchman. Draco, understandably, found it less amusing than she did.

She was so into her story that she hardly noticed when they reached street level. He ushered her out and guided them towards the high street for a cab.

"Oh," she said sadly when she realized it was time for her to go to the airport and time for him to go off and do Draco things.

"Are you trying to say that you'll miss me?" He pressed.

"I'm trying to say that we look like sexy salt and pepper shakers right now and I'm sad to bust up your mother's carefully crafted look," she quipped, pulling him towards her by the lapels of his jacket while he hailed her a cab.

"Why don't you and your dad come have dinner with me and Scorpius on Sunday? When he finds out the truth he'll probably want to punch me, but I have a feeling he wouldn't clock me in front of my own son," Draco reasoned as a cab stopped in front of them.

Lyra sighed, "I can't make any promises about the face punchings, but I'd like that."

Draco opened the door for her and paid the driver to get her to Heathrow. He turned back to his witch and kissed her soundly before helping her into the car.

"I guess I'll miss you a little, she said, through the open window.

"I knew it," he said with a wink at her as the car pulled away.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Thanks so much to Shhh. I'm an alien for your awesome review. The drama between these two isn't done. Not by a long shot, I can tell you that. Thanks to everyone for reading. Please follow and review, I love the feedback! -MM


	38. Chapter 38

**November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Heathrow Airport  
Friday Evening**

Lyra saw him immediately as he walked out of the arrivals area at the airport.

"Daddy!" She called, aware that it made her sound like an eight year old, but not caring. She whooshed into his arms and snuggled into her spot on his shoulder.

"Hey, kiddo. I barely recognized you," he said, rubbing her back. "I hardly think picking your father up from the airport warrants formal attire."

"To me it does," she said, with a grin before pulling back and pressing a kiss to the unruly stubble on his cheek. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're here," she said sincerely, hugging him a little tighter.

"Aren't you a clingy little wildebeest." He quipped down at his youngest.

Lyra scoffed and dropped her arms in defiance. "Did you just call your heroic, dark-magic fighting daughter, who almost died last week, a wildebeest?"

"Yes. A clingy and little one," he deadpanned.

"Well, it's been a nice visit, old man. Back on the plane with you," she mocked, pushing him back towards the terminal.

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her as they made their way back to the taxis.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Saturday**

"Hey, dad! Do you want to go get dessert? There's this Indian place down the road that's just like Vikram's back home." Lyra shouted out to him as he flooed back in from town, while she put away some dishes.

"Sounds good," he said walking into the kitchen at the Savoy apartment, with some freshly bought books in his arms. "But first, I'd like you to tell me why you're on the front page of the newspaper here elbowing through a crowd of reporters with an...albino male model?" He said, dropping a copy of The Prophet in front of her.

"Ugh. How did you even get that?" She griped, forlornly.

"Oh it was just, I dunno, on every street corner in Diagon Alley," he replied, undeterred.

Lyra huffed in defeat. "Yeah, so about that. He's not a model. Dad, that's..." she sighed. "That's Draco. You know, like my Draco."

"What?! You mean that boy from when you were a kid?" He questioned, squinting at the photograph. "As in that little prick turned you into more waterworks than girl for a solid six months? Care to elaborate?"

"He's what brought me here. He was part of a case, some stuff happened and we just..." she trailed off.

"So you're...seeing him again?" Her father asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Draco Malfoy, son of presently incarcerated Former Death Eater Lucius Malfoy leaves the Ministry of Magic Friday evening with his partner, Lyra Black. Ms. Black is an American national currently working in an unknown capacity for the Ministry," he read from the caption of the photo.

"So I take it your case was some kind of big deal?" He inquired.

"I mean...I guess?," she sighed. "Draco is pretty well loaded and his family was on the dark side during the Wars, so there's some uh...notoriety there." she explained.

"Seems like fun," he ribbed. "The phrase 'sucker for pain' comes to mind..."

"That's not far off," she retorted with a humorless laugh. "Are...are you disappointed in me?" She asked, suddenly nervous.

"No, honey. I'm just...worried."

"So am I," she admitted honestly.

"I remember how hard it all was for you back then. It seemed, to me, like he didn't take good care of your heart when he had it," her father explained.

"You're not wrong," she offered.

"So, has he changed?"

"I don't know yet. I've changed for sure. Hell. I've changed more in the last three weeks than I think I have in the last three years. I'm just worried that it's not a change for the better. And I'm afraid that reconnecting with someone who hurt me like he did makes me weak...or crazy," She sighed warily. "Am I crazy?"

"Most definitely. You take after your mother," he quipped without hesitation, unable to resist the joke.

Lyra socked him in the arm.

"Speaking of your mother, I think that if she were here, she would say that being willing to give someone a chance, being willing to let them regain your trust is the opposite of weak. It takes a strong person, a brave person to make themselves vulnerable in that way," he said to her.

Lyra exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding. What her father said to her rung true. That is exactly what her mother would say...but her mother wasn't here.

"That's all well and good, but what do you say?" she pressed, looking for his pragmatism and reasonable guidance.

"I say, if he fucks it up, you hex him blind and come home. There is nothing you could ever do, nowhere you could ever go, no shady albino you could ever date that would make your mom and I love you less," he said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She threw her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "I love you, dad."

"I love you too, kiddo," he said, holding her close and quietly thanking every deity he didn't actually believe in that his baby girl was still alive.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England** **  
Sunday Evening**

Lyra and her father arrived right on time to Draco's flat on Sunday evening, despite Alistair's valiant efforts to delay them or have them cancel the engagement altogether. Lyra had filled him in on a few of the grittier details that led to her injuries, which hadn't endeared Draco to him in the least.

Lyra was persistent and eventually resorted to his sense of punctuality to get him into the Floo. If they didn't leave now, they'd be late and even worse, late with no excuse...which was akin to murder in her father's book. He reluctantly agreed.

Draco walked in from the kitchen and met them at the fireplace, Lyra could tell he was nervous. _Good. He should be,_ she thought.

"Lyra. Lovely, as always," he said giving her squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "I missed you," he whispered in her ear.

She smirked at him. "Hi," she said shyly. "Let me introduce you. Draco, this is my father, Alistair Black. Dad, this is Draco Malfoy."

"The albino male model," her father said flatly, taking his hand.

Draco laughed awkwardly. "Thanks, I think? Pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"LYRA LYRA LYRA LYRA!" Scorpius chanted as he ran in with a newspaper in his little hand.

Lyra beamed and swooped down to pick him up. "Hello there, young man! How can I help you?"

"You and Daddy are famous! Look!" The little boy chattered excitedly as he pushed the picture into her face.

"We are?!" Lyra exclaimed taking the paper, "My goodness! What for?" She inquired moving further into the room with him, leaving Draco and her dad to stare awkwardly at each other by the Floo.

"I don't know, but you look pretty...and mean. You look like Gran!" Scorpius explained.

Lyra erupted in a bright peel of laughter that had Draco smirking at the sweet scene unfolding between his witch and his son.

"Oh man, kiddo. You are comedy gold. Should we tell your Grandmother? What do you think?" Lyra asked.

"Yesyesyesyes," he replied excitedly.

Lyra snorted. "Oh, Scorpius! I want you to meet somebody," she said carrying him back towards the sitting room and walking up to her father. "Scorpius, this is my Dad. His name is Alistair. He's cool...mostly."

Scorpius laughed shyly and buried his face in her shoulder.

"It's nice to meet you, Scorpius. You've always been one of my favorite constellations," he quipped at the boy.

Scorpius pulled away from Lyra to turn back to him. "What's constellations?" He asked.

"That's a great question!" Her father exclaimed. "Constellations are the shapes made by the stars. Scorpius is shaped like a Scorpion."

"And daddy is a dragon! And Lyra is a harp!" Scorpius offered before turning back to Lyra and grabbing her cheeks with his little hands. "Harpy Harpy," he chirped at her.

Alistair laughed loudly at the little boy calling his daughter a harpy.

"No, Scorpius. Harp is fine. Harpy is a naughty word," Draco chastised.

"Harp Harp Harp," the little boy self corrected before looking back to the new person in the room for validation.

Alistair was trying to stifle his laughter, lest he encourage the boy. "You're funny. You remind me of Lyra when she was little."

"She still is pretty little," Scorpius retorted.

"Hey!" Lyra exclaimed. "If you are quite finished calling me names and making fun of my size, I was hoping we could talk about what's really important here," Lyra said to his expectant face.

"Trains," she whispered.

She swore she saw Scorpius's little pupils dilate with glee.

"Do you like trains?" Her father asked him.

"No, dad. Scorpius hates trains. Thinks they're the worst," Lyra filled in, setting the little boy back down.

Scorpius shot her a look of utmost betrayal before turning confidently back to Mr. Black to rectify the situation. "No I doooooon't! I love them-love them-love them -love them!" He clarified passionately, doing a little stomp dance for emphasis.

Draco sighed. He was so bloody sick of trains. "Son, how about we talk about the trains while we eat, yeah?"

And talk about the trains they did. Lyra figured this vein of conversation would kill two birds with one stone. It would fulfill her promise to Scorpius to have the long anticipated 'train talk' and it would keep her father, the pedant, occupied and not focused on shooting eye-daggers at her boyfriend. Everybody wins.

Speaking of said boyfriend, Lyra found herself aching to touch him. She wanted to spirit him down the hallway while Scorpius and her dad talked locomotives and plaster him with lazy kisses. _It's only been two days, Lyra. Get a grip._

Her father was leaving for the airport early in the morning then Lyra was going into the office to work on some things for Harry's professional inquiry. She was due at Narcissa's at four for the interview where she would be next to Draco but not alone with him.

She locked eyes with him and felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. The familiar brush of his mind against hers. He was trying to read her. _Little punk_ , she thought tilting her head at him to let him know she knew exactly what he was up to.

He shrugged at her before popping a bite of chicken into his mouth nonchalantly.

She glanced down at his mouth and then sent him a booming mental broadcast of herself writhing underneath him in agonizing detail. Soft panting in his ear. Nails scratching lightly down his back. Her breathless voice begging him for more. Moaning his name.

Lyra relished in the way his eyes darkened as he looked at her. She smirked before looking away and severing their connection.

"DADDY!" Scorpius shouted to get his attention.

"Sorry, what?" Draco looked over at his son, rubbing at the snap of tension that hit him in the forehead from his wandless encounter with her thoughts.

"Can I go get my trains to show Mr. Black?" The boy asked, innocently.

"You may once you've finished your potatoes," Draco replied in full dad-mode.

Scorpius huffed, but got to work.

After dinner they spent some time in the sitting room, Scorpius and Mr. Black still deep in train talk. Draco approached Lyra as she stood by the fire, handing her a glass of amber liquid.

"Ooh! Is this what I think it is?" She inquired, taking a sip and enjoying the rich flavor of the spiced whisky he'd made for her at his mother's.

He smiled down at her. "Did Lady Malfoy fill you in on all the specifics for tomorrow?" He asked casually, watching Lyra's father turn one of Scorpius's little trains upside down to show him something about the wheels.

"She sure did," Lyra replied. "I'll be there at four to get aggressively pretty," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you really hate it that much?" Draco asked with a sad edge to his voice.

Lyra deflated. "Not really. I don't mind playing dress up with you. I just resent the reasons why," she admitted, smoothing her hand down his arm. "Plus, I'd much rather play with you without a dress on at all," she whispered to him with a wink.

He exhaled hard, but said nothing.

Scorpius called out to Draco then to show him something Mr. Black was teaching him about one of his trains, so Draco joined them on the couch and Lyra watched with an amused fondness her father, her boyfriend and his son crack into the infinite mystery of train wheels.

An hour or so later, Lyra sat on the couch, with a fading Scorpius in her lap demanding that she read him just one more story.

"You never sound more like a little Malfoy than when you are telling me what to do," Lyra noted.

"I am a Malfoy," he said confidently.

"You are? I never would have guessed," she joked, ruffling his white hair.

"Please?" He implored sweetly.

"Oh, alright," she conceded, taking the book from his hand and letting him snuggle into her.

Draco knew he should at least try to make some small-talk with Lyra's father that didn't involve trains, but he scarcely knew where to begin.

"Smart kid," Alistair offered, breaking the silence.

"Thank you. Gets it from his mother," he replied. "How is Caelum? Is he still doing conservation work?"

"He did that for awhile, but he teaches Magical Creatures at Ilvermorny now. It's better for him now that he has kids," the older wizard replied, surprised that the blonde would know about any of that.

"So, Lyra's somebody's batty Aunt?! That's brilliant. She's a natural," he mused, looking back at her.

Alistair laughed. "She is. Orion and Porrima. They adore her."

Draco gave a small smile and then inhaled to gather courage for his next point. "Mr. Black, I don't know how much she's told you about our history, specifically my behavior and that of my family. But if I were in your position, I would want some answers," he said in a rush. "I want...it's important to me that you know that I will do everything in my power to see her safe, happy and dearly loved for as long as she affords me the privilege."

The older wizard eyed him warily. "That's nice I suppose, but she was all of those things before she got here. I'm her father and I can tell you she's stressed out, doubting herself and exhausted. Those aren't necessarily bad things. They can catalyze growth, but only if you have good people to lean on. Is that you? I have no idea. What I do know is that she's smart, can defend herself and has deemed you worth the trouble...for now. So, you screw it up, or you don't, it makes little difference to me. She'll do good wherever she is."

Draco said nothing, but nodded. As far as threatening father speeches, it wasn't bad and it reinforced something that had been on his mind for days. He wanted to deserve her. Be something safe for her. Comforting. Something that made her day better, not worse. Like she did for him. Like she'd always done for him.

He glanced over at Lyra. She was staring at him and he felt her in his mind. She had heard him. She looked away embarrassed and blushed. Scorpius was full asleep on her chest and she stood up to bring him into his room.

After Scorpius was in bed, Lyra and her father decided to head back to the Savoy since they had an early morning ahead of them. The two men shook hands politely and the older wizard flooed back first to give Lyra and Draco some privacy.

"It was nice," Lyra said to him softly.

"Are you referring to the two solid hours of train drivel or the bit where your father said he doesn't care if I fuck this up?" Draco inquired.

Lyra leaned in and snorted into his chest before pulling back to look up at him. "I mean reading you. Having you read me. I missed your brain," she said with a little blush. "Did you mean it?" She asked, referring to what she'd heard from his thoughts.

"I did," he replied.

She yanked him down for a long kiss before hopping into the fire and heading back to her place. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but she had high hopes for the evening.


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note - Smut after the page break. Thanks for reading, please review! Thanks to conh3 for the nice review. There is a reason he didn't go find her after the war that will be addressed. The initial issue was that he was on trial for war crimes and spent a year under house arrest, but there's more. Hang tight :) -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Monday**

Lyra had slept all of four hours the previous night. She'd had to get up pre-dawn to see her father safely to the airport. She was the first one at the office and spent nearly all day elbow deep in ass-numbingly dull British cursing law in preparation for Harry's inquiry.

By the time she left to go to Narcissa's for the interview, she was a ragged mess.

She walked as opposed to taking the Floo, hoping it would perk her up. When she arrived in Narcissa's grand sitting room, the blonde witch went wide eyed.

"Lyra, what happened?" She asked, concerned.

"The day happened," she huffed. "I'm so tired."

"Well we will just have to...make some adjustments," Narcissa said helpfully.

"I put my haggard face and hair in your entirely capable hands, Mrs. Malfoy," Lyra said, stifling a yawn. "Where's Draco?"

"He's upstairs. We can worry about him later. You and I have work to do."

"Yes, Ma'am," Lyra replied.

She put her in a scoop-necked ivory sweater dress. It was shorter than the last one and stopped a few inches above her knee. It was comfortable and draped her body perfectly. Narcissa left her hair down and spelled it into some beachy, tousled waves that looked chic and effortless. She laid the makeup on a little thicker than she would have liked, given Lyra's state of fatigue, but played up on her natural tan to both make the dress look brighter and put her in bronze contrast to Draco's pale skin. She accented her ears and right ring finger with diamonds and put her in a pair of suede ankle boots that were a lovely cornflower blue. The overall effect was casual class. Lyra was in love.

"Oh my God! I don't look like a zombie anymore, and if I do, it's a pretty zombie!" She said, beaming. "You really earned your keep, today, given what you started with."

Narcissa chuckled. "Mrs. Figg should be here in about 25 minutes. You'll be in the library. I think Draco's already up there," Narcissa said.

"Thank you," she replied, planting a kiss on the blonde witch's cheek and heading upstairs to find Draco.

The library was a beautiful room done in black maple with green accents. She found Draco lost in a book behind a grand desk on the far wall of the room. He had his feet perched on the edge and seemed to be totally engrossed. She got well over half way to him before he looked up at her.

She smiled at him sweetly then laughed outright when his eyes shamelessly traveled the length of her bare legs.

"See something you like?" She asked innocently.

"Maybe," he replied.

She blushed and made her way over to him to lean against the desk, next to his chair.

He brought his hand to her and ghosted it up the side of her body and back down, marveling at her shape and the softness of the dress. "Beautiful," he mused quietly.

"You look pretty good yourself," she replied, leaning into his hand.

He had worn, or rather his mother had put him in gray trousers paired with a thin black sweater that highlighted the sleek musculature of his shoulders. He had the sleeves rolled up, exposing an expensive silver watch with a steel blue face and his hair was styled with intentional casualness. He looked good. He pretty much always did.

"You ready?" She asked.

"Are you?" He challenged.

"I feel like I could fall asleep or blab something acutely embarrassing at any moment. So, yes?" She answered.

He sighed. "Just remember you can always say less and let them ask follow on questions if you want."

She nodded. "Will...will you come home with me tonight?" She asked, looking down.

"You know I will," he said softly, pulling her in front of him so she was pinned between his chair and the desk.

She smiled. "I feel like we haven't been alone in days."

"Well, that would be because we haven't been alone in days," he quipped. "Are you alright? How was work?" He inquired, looking up from his seat and rubbing his hands soothingly down her hips.

She yawned. "Boring. They scheduled Harry's inquiry for Wednesday morning. I know you think he's a wanker and you know that I occasionally agree with you about that, but I really need you there. Will you go?" She asked, bracing herself for a fight.

Draco narrowed his eyes but held her gaze. "He is a wanker. But if you need me, I will go. For you."

Lyra balked in surprise but then grinned wide and pitched herself into his lap. "Thank you, baby," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling into his shoulder and closing her eyes.

She fell asleep within minutes and Draco laughed, gathering her into his arms, and settled them both on the couch. He watched her sleep, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the soft cashmere of her dress. He should really thank his mother for dressing his witch in something that made her legs look so sexy, although that probably wasn't the intent.

Draco was just musing about the sweet nature of the budding relationship between Lyra and his mother when a house elf appeared, informing him that the reporter had arrived.

"Lyra," he said, rocking her gently.

She grumbled unhappily and burrowed deeper into his arms.

"It's time, Sweetheart," he informed her.

She groaned and sat up, disentangling slowly from him and immediately missing the heat from his body. She settled herself next to him on the couch and fluffed her hair out for good measure.

Narcissa entered the room then followed by a plump, gray haired witch wearing frumpy pink robes. Draco and Lyra stood to meet her.

"Griselda, I'd like you to meet Lyra Black and of course you know my son Draco," the blonde witch trilled politely.

"Draco, so nice to see you, little lamb. You look so handsome! Finally put on some weight. Excellent," the reporter chirped at Draco who smiled tightly. She then turned to Lyra. "And here is the lovely woman causing all this fuss. Pleasure to meet you," she said extending her hand to Lyra.

"Thank you so much. It's nice to meet you too!" Lyra said, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

"Ah, the accent! So cute," the witch quipped, patting Lyra on the arm.

Draco and Lyra settled in together on the couch and Narcissa and Griselda occupied two upholstered chairs across from them near the fire. The reporter readied a self-writing quill for transcription and got right to it.

"Miss Black, let's start with you, shall we?" She asked.

Lyra inhaled nervously. "Sure, why not."

"Where are you from?"

"New York City. Brooklyn, to be exact."

"And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm an Auror for MCUSA, that's the Magical Congress of the United States," Lyra replied.

The reporter's eyes widened. "An Auror! That's brilliant! Do you have a specialty?"

"I do!" Lyra gasped, tickled that the woman even knew Aurors could specialize. "I specialize in Occlemency and Legilimency."

"Very complex magic, that," the witch commented, seeming impressed.

"I love it."

"Are you working with the Aurors at the Ministry?" She asked.

"I am, as a consultant, but I can't comment on any active cases or projects," Lyra warned.

"Of course," the witch replied. "Can you tell me if it was though your work that you met Draco?"

Lyra looked over at her boyfriend. "This kid?" She questioned, elbowing him in the arm. "No, I've known him forever."

Draco smiled over at her.

"Really!? When did you meet?" The reporter asked, startled by the news and the easy informality between the dark-haired American and her snobbish boyfriend.

"Um...1991 maybe? We were eleven," Lyra explained. "We met at Hogwarts."

"Being from The States, why didn't you attend the Ilvermorny School?" The reporter asked.

"I did, but I was lucky enough to do several short exchanges over here thanks to the Headmaster."

"Do you mean Albus Dumbledore?"

"Correct." _Oh shit...probably should not have brought that up._

"Did you know him?" She asked.

"Not really, but I'm very grateful that he let me come and study." She paused, looking at the witch. Lyra could see the question the woman was dying to ask. It was swimming around in her head like a snake. Lyra decided to beat her to the punch, so she could drive the conversation, as Narcissa had suggested. "I imagine that you're probably interested in knowing how I feel about what Draco did during the war that contributed to his death. It's a fair question," she offered. She felt Draco stiffen next to her, but he said nothing.

The reporter looked stunned. "I am," she admitted.

Lyra nodded her head tiredly. "I think what he did was wrong. I know why he did it, and I, like most self-righteous people, want to think that if I were in his position at seventeen I would have made a different call, but I honestly have no idea. Why? Because when I was seventeen I was safe at school, worrying about exams and prom dresses. When he was seventeen he was in the clutches of maniacs who saw nothing wrong with turning children into soldiers and assassins under the threat of death." The answer was honest, and required no spin on her part.

The old witch pulled out a handkerchief to catch a quiet tear. "Oh my dears," she whispered. "Draco, do you have anything to say about that?"

He cleared his throat. "Not really. It's all out there already," he said almost shyly.

"Of course," the reporter replied kindly. "How exactly did you two meet?" She asked, changing the subject.

"I studied regularly under Severus Snape during my intervals at Hogwarts," Lyra explained.

The reporter turned to Draco. "He was a kind of mentor to you, was he not?"

Draco took an uncomfortable breath. "He was, yeah. He's also the reason I met her," he said, putting a hand on Lyra's knee. "My first year, I was stuck at Hogwarts for a winter break while my parents were out of the country for some reason or other. I was miserable, haunting the Slytherin dungeons like a ghost, and Snape found me moping. He dragged me into a classroom and shoved me at a little American witch who needed a legilimency partner," he explained.

Lyra smiled at him.

"After that, I found endless excuses to avoid having to leave for breaks when I knew she would be at the castle," he continued.

"Were you romantically involved when you were younger?"

Lyra blushed.

"We were," Draco answered plainly.

"Were you together when the war broke out?"

"I suppose technically yes but we...I broke it off after after Voldemort moved into my parent's home, the winter of my 6th year, before the borders were closed. I was worried that he would see her in my thoughts," he said nervously. "I didn't want him to use her against me the way that he was using my mother."

"What do you mean?"

"He threatened to kill her, then me if I didn't kill the Headmaster," Draco clarified, motioning towards his mother.

The reporter said nothing, but looked over to Narcissa who was wiping away a tear.

Lyra reached over and grabbed his hand.

"I'm sorry, my dears, for hauling you back through all of this heartbreak," the old witch said, dabbing her eyes again. "Shall we move on to other things?"

Lyra nodded.

"Right, well I'm sure you've heard the speculation that Draco was missing for sometime before resurfacing last week. There is a theory now that you had him holed up in some love nest somewhere and his disappearance is completely unrelated to his father's recent legal woes. Do you care to comment on that?"

Lyra laughed. Narcissa snorted.

"I'm sorry," Lyra said with a chuckle. "Well, I can't comment on Mr. Malfoy's arrest but I can safely affirm that I did not spirit Draco away to a bungalow for snuggle time. I sincerely wish that were the case."

"Draco, can you comment at all on your disappearance?"

"I'm afraid I can't," He replied. _Literally because I have no sodding clue_ , he added to himself mentally.

"When did you two start seeing each other again?" She asked.

"Very recently. Whoever was following us last Wednesday snapped us snogging for the first time in about a decade," Draco answered honestly. "It was my fault. She looked so lovely, I couldn't help myself. I'm honestly surprised that she didn't punch me in the teeth."

"I could always punch you in the teeth now, if it would make you feel better," Lyra offered helpfully.

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart, but I'll wait," he said back, putting his arm around her.

The reporter laughed.

"Why did you agree to be interviewed?"

Lyra took the initiative on this one. "Because we understand that with everything that's happened recently there's bound to be interest in our relationship and we wanted to put it out there in our own words," she said, looking at Draco.

He squeezed her into his side. "That's right. It looks exciting from the outside, but to us, it's more old than new, I think."

"I think we're pretty boring, to be honest," Lyra added in support of his point. "We watch bad TV. We eat pancakes. Draco talks to me about Quidditch and I pretend to listen. I talk to Draco about dueling and he pretends to listen. Pretty standard stuff."

Draco smiled and the old witch laughed.

"But you must like Quidditch!" The witch exclaimed.

"I like my bones intact and to not have my head concussed," Lyra said back.

"I thought Americans were risk-takers!?" The old witch teased.

"I do take risks! I had an Auror to Auror death-match last week with Harry Potter! I just don't want to be...bludgeoned?" She petitioned.

"It's called a bludger, love." Draco corrected before looking back at the reporter. "She really doesn't listen."

Lyra huffed unhappily.

Griselda laughed. "You two are just too sweet! You know, I think I can take it from here. I've brought a photo man with me to get a quick shot, if you don't mind," she said.

"That's fine," Draco replied.

"I'll get him," Narcissa said, getting up to head out the door.

She returned with a young red-haired wizard in a smart suit who trudged in behind her, lugging his equipment.

"Lovely room," he remarked.

"Thank you," Narcissa replied.

The photographer led Draco and Lyra over to the window for better light.

Lyra was drained after the interview. She was worried she'd said too much, but she wasn't getting any overt signals from Draco or Narcissa that she had. She reached out to Draco's mind to see what he was thinking about...

 _I wonder if she's too tired for a shag after this. I just want her to wrap those legs around me and let me have at her for an hour or so...wait a minute. What are you up to, Black? Don't you know it's not nice to spy? But, since you're in here already, do you think you're too tired for a shag after this?_

Lyra burst out laughing, even as a wave of pain crashed into her temples. She leaned forward to hide herself in Draco's chest while he rested his back on the window frame.

"You alright, sweetheart?" He asked, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of her head.

She made a satisfied grumble into his chest. He chuckled and rubbed into her scalp which turned her grumble into more of a purr. Her purr stopped abruptly when she heard the telltale click of a camera. She pulled back to look at the photographer.

"That's brilliant," he said to them.

"We didn't do anything?" She replied, confused.

"Exactly. You get a better picture that way. Carry on doing nothing," he explained.

She looked back to Draco skeptically, who just shrugged. "Why don't you tell me more about your day," he offered, to distract her.

She leaned back into the window frame across from him. "You mean more about the absolute quagmire that is British spellcasting law? Ok, sure! Get this garbage. There are two rival invocation clauses for prosecuting unlawful uses of the Imperious curse called...get this...The Ripple and the Dipple rules. The entire premise of an invocation clause is absurd in the first place, however, because there is no such thing as a lawful use of the Imperious curse! Unbelievable! How do you guys ever get anything done!"

Lyra expounded on her thesis a bit until they were informed by the young wizard that he'd gotten some great shots and would be on his way. They saw Mrs. Figg and the photographer to the door with Mrs. Malfoy and as soon as the door clicked, Lyra turned to the two blondes and started babbling self-consciously.

"Did I say too much? I didn't mean to talk about Dumbledore. I was just trying to roll with it after and I'm so sorry if I brought up anything that upset either of you..."

"Quite to the contrary, dear. I think you did excellent. It was mostly light, it was genuine and, whether you meant to or not, I think you found a way to humanize Draco in a way that he's not very good at doing himself, no offense my love," Narcissa explained, adding an apology to Draco at the end.

Lyra nodded and looked over to Draco.

"I agree with my mother. Well done," he said with a proud little smirk.

Lyra sighed in relief. "Thank god. I am so tired. Let's never do that again either."

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Monday Evening**

Draco and Lyra flooed back to the Savoy. Lyra bounded happily to the bedroom and wriggled out of her clothes. Draco followed her at a lazy pace and watched her with amusement. She was flinging her bra haphazardly into the laundry bin when she paused and looked back at him.

"Hey! What are you doing? I thought you said you wanted to have at me?"

He laughed, leaning against the wall.

She trailed over to him, completely naked, and started undoing his belt.

"Why don't we sleep first, sweetheart? I know you're tired," he offered, despite his obviously growing arousal.

"I'm just looking for a lazy bang here, kiddo. What were you planning on doing with me?" She asked with a quizzical brow.

He smirked wickedly at her and grabbed her face with both hands bringing his lips to hers. She undid his trousers and then traced under his sweater with her hands up to the smooth expanse of his chest. He lifted his arms over his head helpfully and Lyra broke their kiss to pull off and toss his sweater. He pushed her back towards the bed and laid her down. He discarded his trousers and underwear quickly and crawled over her, covering her small body with his larger one.

Lyra raised her knees to open herself for him. He pressed himself to her in as many points as he could, enjoying the unparalleled softness of her skin. Looking down at her, he marveled at the way her hazel eyes turned into molten gold whenever she was aroused. It made him feel incredible. It made him feel almost like he deserved to be there.

Lyra loved being pressed under his weight like this. He was so warm and he covered her completely. She wrapped her ankles around his lower back to press their bodies closer together. They weren't fucking yet. He wasn't even inside her. They were just touching. Kissing. She trailed her fingertips along the channel of his spine over and over again until he was wriggling in her arms.

She began gently pulsing her hips to call him back to attention. He fisted both hands in her long hair and pulled back to look at her. She was panting softly with need and anticipation. Keeping his eyes fixed on her face, he executed an amazing little swivel with his muscles that guided him inside her in one fluid motion.

Her eyes fell shut as he entered her. She, almost as if on instinct, arched her back up to press her chest into his. She breathed out a grateful little moan to him that sounded like she'd just been delivered from some kind of unbearable tension.

He pumped into her slowly, marveling at how perfectly complementary their bodies were. She was small where he was large. Soft where he was hard. Sinfully wet where he was desperately dry.

He was killing her with his slow, steady thrusts. He could work her this way for hours if he wanted to. He kept them chest to chest and stationed his mouth close to her ear, so he could whisper the most delicious things to her that had her whining for completion. It reminded her of their first time. Not the part where she was an awkward virgin, but the part where he had treated her with such gentle and exquisite care that she felt like the most thoroughly adored creature on the face of the earth. It was amazing to her how he could still make her feel such devotion with a single fuck.

"Do you like that sweetheart? Do you like having me inside you?" He whispered in her ear.

She whimpered in affirmation.

"You make me so hard. Do you know how good you feel?"

 _Oh my god._ She pulled her knees higher to her elbows to find him more space.

"Tell me what you want, love."

"I want you." She panted.

He grunted and fucked once into her hard.

"I'm yours," he said gruffly.

"I want to feel you come," she whispered.

Draco sped up. Lyra ran her fingers through his hair, pressing her lips to his ear.

"Do you like coming inside me baby?" She asked.

His breath caught in his throat. "I love it."

She smiled into his neck and wrapped her arms around him like a vine. She made little cries with every deep surge of his hips and let him have her.

He pulled back and pressed a shaky kiss to her forehead. His pace was becoming erratic and Lyra looked up at him to watch.

Draco threw his head back and put a slight separation between them as he came, snapping his eyes shut. He panted breathlessly in time with the rhythmic surge of his climax.

Lyra felt his heat pour into her and the sweet feel of it finished her, causing her to contract around him, demanding more from his body. She arched her back and reached her hand out to make contact with his chest, feeling his heart thundering under her palm.

Draco gently put his forehead to hers and settled himself back onto her, enjoying the aftershocks of her orgasm that snapped around him as he softened within her.

Lyra tilted her head to press a lazy, satisfied kiss to his mouth, loving the taste of sweat on his lip.

"Mmmm," she said, running her hands down his sides.

His arms felt like lead, so he moved down, slipping out of her and rested his head on her chest. She brought one hand up to hold his head to her and the other to draw soft little patterns on the skin of his back.

They laid that way in silence for a few moments and Draco huffed out a quiet laugh at her expense for the second time that day as she fell asleep almost instantly. He snuggled deeper into her and just enjoyed being in her arms until he thought he was making her too warm and he rolled to the side, staying close, and drifted to sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Department**  
 **Tuesday**

Lyra spent the morning in Harry's office, helping him catch up on some tediously boring paperwork. Namely, they were in the process of finalizing Harry's report on his raid from the week prior. He and Godwin's team had a lead on a number of people harassing the pupils and staff of a day school for young Muggle-borns. When discovered, it turned out that the culprits were a handful of teenage wizards who mostly cried forlornly for their rich parents as they were being hauled away in ropes. It sounded like a great time. Lyra was sad she missed it.

"Hey Harry?"

"Hmm?" He replied, absentmindedly.

"What do you know about the Vox Prima?"

He paused and looked up, puzzled.

"Draco," she explained, answering his unspoken question of where she'd heard the name.

He nodded. "Secret society. Rich purebloods mostly. Lot of power hungry businessmen. Politicians. Mostly supported Voldemort during the Wars. He himself was one of them, if I'm not mistaken. Quite influential in their day. Supposedly all dried up now though after The Second. These blokes we picked up on the raid would've fit right in. Malfoy would have too, if things had turned out differently."

"What do you mean supposedly all dried up?" Lyra asked, choosing to ignore his dig at her boyfriend.

"Well, they never really go away do they? They just hush up. Go deeper before they find an opportunity to come back into the light," he explained, looking suddenly tired. "The problem is that it's all around, I mean, the blood supremacy that is. It jumps out at you in work meetings, at dinner with friends. A mention here, a line there about what muggle-borns should and shouldn't be allowed to do. I overheard a witch at Gringott's this weekend say that a muggle-born Minister of Magic would just be 'wrong'," he added. "It's hard for the ideas to truly die when we reinforce them in little ways everyday."

"I see," she replied.

"Those kinds of people, meaning the type who would've been in The Vox, you find them in boardrooms, banks, stuffy cigar bars or one of the Nagini houses. Places like that," Harry informed her.

"Nagini houses?" She inquired.

"Yeah they're all over...it's a...er...a kind of gentlemen's club that was affiliated with a lot of that stuff back in the day."

"Gentlemen's club?" She questioned.

"Er...yeah. You know...women," Harry added, embarrassed.

"It's a whorehouse," Lyra offered with a shrug.

"Well...yeah. It was a place that powerful men would go to rub elbows and make connections. It still is, if what I hear is true," he added.

"Lyra laughed and pointed at him. "You said 'make connections'..." she said with air quotes for emphasis.

He rolled his eyes at her and snorted. "The one in London was a bit of of a hotbed for Voldemort in terms of planning and recruitment," he explained.

Lyra laughed and pointed at him. "You said 'hotbed'..."

"Shut it," he quipped. "Listen to this, though. Voldemort had an enormous pet snake. She was a horcrux, meaning that he actually put part of his soul in her. He kept her with him at all times. Talked to her, let her kill for him. I think he bloody well loved the thing."

"Okay..." Lyra said confused.

"Nagini. He named the snake Nagini."

Lyra balked before collapsing down into her chair in a fit of laughter. "Oh man. He should have just gone full on and named her Oedipus."

"Huh?"

"Psychology reference. Don't worry about it," she explained.

They were interrupted by an urgent knock on the door from Colin. "Auror Potter, I just received a flyer from the MLE review board. They've moved your professional inquiry up to today," he stammered.

Lyra sat up intently in her chair. "What? When?"

"An hour. It's at one o'clock. I've already owled Auror Shacklebolt but I know that he's flying back from Wiltshire right now and I don't know if he'll be back in time." the young wizard replied.

Lyra looked pointedly back at Harry who was leaning forward at his desk. He looked ill.

"Harry, they can't. They can't do a board review on you without your supervisor," she implored.

"Watch them," Harry said, weakly.

 _Oh hells no_ , Lyra thought. "Colin, go get Auror Gold, tell him we need him at the review board at one. Go now," she instructed, sending him out of the room.

She turned back to her friend and stood up. "Harry. I need to read you right now."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because I just fucking do. We don't have time. I'm very good. You know this. I won't go poking around to find out if you and Ginny are into weird bedroom stuff. My default guess is that you are." She drew her wand, causing Harry's eyes to widen. "Sit back in your chair. Take three deep breaths."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but it was to no avail.

"Legilimens," she muttered, hitting her friend between the eyes with her magic.

 _What the hell!? That was totally unfair and I think you know that._

She got down to business. She was looking for one thing. One very specific thing. _There_ _it is_. _..Oh...Oh shit. Awww...buddy. Well I can't really use that. I can't really use any of that. Fuck,_ she thought to herself.

She pulled out of his mind, leaving him panting and weary behind his desk.

"Bloody hell, Lyra! What are you playing at?!" He exclaimed.

"I am playing at trying to help you keep your job, kid!" She fired back. "Look, I need to go get Draco. I will meet you at one," she said in a rush. "Listen to me. When you are in there, you stick to one thing, okay? You stick to the fact that you don't remember casting that curse. I've read your mind. I know that that is more or less true. You do not let them push you into anything else. Nothing, you hear me?"

He looked at her like she was a dementor, coming to turn his bones to ice.

"When I speak up for you, you do exactly as I say. You do not question me. Do you understand?"

He stared at her.

"We don't have time! Do you understand me, Potter?"

"Yes! Merlin! Fine!" He exclaimed. "I hardly see what sodding difference it will make now," he said with a wary pout.

"It's gonna be fine," she said with false bravado before she fled the room to Floo to Draco's apartment. She just hoped he was there.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Tuesday**

Lyra tumbled out of Draco's fireplace into a verbal warzone. The sitting room was empty, but she could hear the yelling from the kitchen.

"We barely know her!" Astoria shouted at him.

"That is such bollocks! YOU barely know her. I've known her for ages. Longer than I've known you!" Draco fired back.

"Look, she's a sweet thing and I'm grateful to her, but she's just not like us! It's not proper! I mean, do you really intend for our son to have an American stepmother someday...one who works?" She said incredulously.

"Scorpius adores her, Astoria." Draco replied.

"And don't I know it! She's all he ever talks about. Lyra this and Lyra that. And now because of those pictures and that stupid article, my friends are at it too! I've spent the last four days of my life talking about that bloody woman. Why do I have to suffer just because you feel like publicly tossing off into the steerage section? Why can't you just pop off to Nagini for a romp like a normal person?! Like you used to?!" Astoria quipped bitterly, walking into the living room with her angry ex-husband hot on her heels.

The blonde witch paled to white when she saw Lyra standing in front of the fireplace.

"Fuck. Lyra, I'm so sorry..." Draco started, while Astoria fumbled for something to say to excuse her ugly words.

Lyra was trembling with rage. She wanted to scream. She wanted to explode.

"I..." she stopped, to stabilize her shaking voice. "I need you to come with me. The idiots at MLE moved Harry's inquiry to today at one," she said to the ground.

"What? Can they do that?" Draco asked, walking towards her.

"Beats me. But they did it," she mumbled at her feet.

"Let me change and I'll come with you," he replied.

"No. Just. Just meet me. I'm leaving," she said, cheeks blazing.

"Lyra. What I said..." Astoria began.

"I heard what you said." Lyra cut her off. "I don't really think I want to hear anything else you have to say right now."

Lyra disappeared into the fireplace with tears quivering in her eyes.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Department**  
 **Tuesday**

She stood stunned in the middle of the Auror's common for a few minutes until Gold grabbed her by the arm to get her attention.

"You alright, lass? You look like you just drank a fifth of firewhiskey," the Scot said to her.

"Fine. I'm fine," she whispered to reassure herself more than him.

"If you say so," he quipped.

She turned to him. "During the inquiry, I'm going to ask you to do something for me. I need you to just do it, okay? No arguing, no bullshitting, no being late to make out with Narcissa Malfoy," she said to him very seriously.

"Now, I don't think you should be puttin' onto me about that, do you?" He asked sweetly, trying to poke fun at her.

Lyra narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

"Do what you say. Leave my woman alone until later," he conceded.

"Lyra," Draco said gently from behind her back. Lyra closed her eyes, not sure if she'd be able to look at him. _Fuck him. Fuck his snotty ex. This is about Harry. Harry Harry Harry Harry._ She turned to him coldly, not meeting his eyes. "Draco. Thanks for coming. I only need you for one question. You can sit in the gallery and I'll call you out when it's time, alright?"

Draco opened his mouth to pour apologies at her feet. To beg her forgiveness, but he stopped himself. "Right," he replied.

"I need a few minutes to prepare and grab my notes from Harry's office. Can I meet you both at the lift in ten?" She asked.

She walked away before hearing their responses. She made it to Harry's office just in time before the tears came in earnest. Harry was gone, probably in the bathroom, losing his lunch. Lyra gave herself exactly six minutes to cry. She took the remaining three and a half minutes to spell her face back on and headed back out the door to fight for her friend.


	41. Chapter 41

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement**  
 **Tuesday**

Lyra met Harry outside of the room where the inquiry was to be held. Draco and Gold were already inside.

"Remember that you don't remember," Lyra told him gravely.

Harry took a large shaky breath. "Right."

They walked in together, side by side, to a plain table set up before the board of nine inquisitors. Lyra recognized some of them from her match with Harry in the arena. Julian Diamond, head of MLE (and known idiot) was sitting in the center as the presiding chairman. _Fucking great_ , Lyra thought. _Hey, we just need five votes. That's all we need._

One of the panel, a middle aged witch with greying red hair, leaned over to Julian to ask where Auror Shacklebolt was.

"I have no idea. Seems he can't find the time to defend his own Aurors. That's a real shame. Probably off campaigning," the pudgy wizard said smugly.

Lyra clenched her fists anxiously. _That's how the fuck it's going to be._

Julian banged a gavel on the long table in front of him. "We the members of the Professional Review Board for the Office of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain call to order this professional inquiry into the use of the killing curse in the line of duty by Auror Harry Potter. The Board will produce evidence of the use of the curse and the Auror under review and his ancillary council will then provide any extenuating information pertinent to these proceedings. Are we in agreement?"

The members of the board mumbled their assent. A blonde wizard on the end who couldn't have been much older than Harry read out an MLE report of the incident that was heavily editorialized and full of flimsy subjectives. It made copious mention of the long standing animosity between Draco and Harry, that they had a history of violence towards one another as recalled by the victim's (Draco's) own father. Their intended point was clear. Harry hated Draco's guts, he saw an opportunity to kill him and so he did. The report made the glaring omission that Draco did not, in fact, die. It was ridiculous and Lyra was absolutely fuming by the end of it.

"Thank you, Carl," Julian stated before turning to Harry and Lyra. "You may now present your case to the board. Members of the board may interject with questions at any time. Please state your full names, title and agency," he said, gesturing first to Harry.

Harry cleared his throat. "Harry James Potter, Auror, Ministry of Magic of Great Britain."

Julian narrowed his gaze at Lyra. Lyra spoke out clearly, with a dogged confidence that she didn't truly have. "Lyra Lily Black, Auror, Magical Congress of the United States of America working in consultation to the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain. I'd like to make the members of the board aware that our Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt is enroute and will be here as soon as he is able. He was coming back from a site in Wiltshire an hour ago when our office received word that this hearing had been moved."

"Yes, thank you. You may begin," Julian dismissed.

Harry recalled what happened the night of the raid, beginning with the face off between himself and Narcissa Malfoy. He did what Lyra asked and admitted to blacking out in a sense when he saw Draco standing over Lyra's body on the ground. After seeing the gruesome scene, the next thing he remembered was having Lyra in his arms and trying to shove a bezoar down her throat. It wasn't until Draco awoke and Harry saw him that he realized what he had done.

"What response do you have to the allegation of bad blood between yourself and Mr. Malfoy mentioned in the MLE report?" An elderly wizard with a long beard asked Harry.

"I would say that it was a long time ago and we were children. I'd remind the board that during his trial for war crimes I testified both against him and in his defense in front of the Wizengamot. Before this case, I hadn't seen him or even thought about him in eight years. The insinuation that I've been stewing in rage over an old school rival is absurd."

 _Nailed it_ , Lyra thought proudly.

"What is absurd is not for you to decide, Auror Potter and I'd thank you to mind your tone," Julian said pompously.

"Yes, Sir. Forgive me. I'd also like to point out that the person that gave this evidence as to the relationship between Mr. Malfoy and myself is presently incarcerated for cursing his own son to torture and kill a witch while under compulsion," Harry added.

"Allegedly, Auror Potter," Julian added.

"Allegedly," Harry nodded.

"If I may," Lyra began. "I'd like to point out an omission made by the MLE report that I feel bears mentioning and that is the fact that Draco Malfoy is not dead. Now, given that Auror Potter has little memory of the moment he cast the curse, we'd have a difficult time assessing his intent and the nature of this particular cast. What we do know, based on his own admission, legilimency and recordings from the room where this happened, is that Auror Potter said the words _Avada Kedavra_ and that Draco Malfoy did not die."

"What's your point?" Julian asked, disinterested.

"My point is that, though we lack the information, whether or not Auror Potter wanted to kill Mr. Malfoy doesn't matter in this case because Auror Potter was magically incapable of doing so," Lyra stated calmly. She noticed that Harry went stock still next to her.

"Do you have so little faith in Mr. Potter's abilities, Auror? He saved your life. I would think you'd be a little more grateful," Julian quipped with a sneer. Lyra noticed that some of the other members of the board fidgeted uncomfortably away from his rude words.

"Sir, I am incredibly grateful to Auror Potter for saving my life. It's why I'm in this room right now. My partner, the very victim we are discussing, is here in this room to defend him as well. And if, as you say, these two men despise each other, I'd call that quite a feat" Lyra explained. "Let me show you. Please," she stated.

"As interesting as I'm sure your theory would be..." Julian began.

"I'd like to hear it," the red-haired witch interjected. Several of the other board members nodded in agreement.

"Oh fine, then. Get on with it," Julian sniped.

"I know that some of you saw Harry and I fight last week in the arena. I noticed that when he and I sparred, some of his offensive curses, his stinging hexes for example, didn't affect me or land on me properly. I was able to repel them or power through them more easily than I'm used to. His defensive spells, however, were excellent and impenetrable...well I mean almost," she explained with a cocky smile at the end.

"I was trying to figure it out and I realized that Harry had told me, several weeks ago that his wand was Hawthorne, with a core of unicorn hair. I've studied wandlore quite extensively and it seemed an odd choice for a wizard like Harry. The only other wand of that composition that I was aware of belonged to someone I knew very well when I was young. After Harry and I fought, Mr. Malfoy was kind enough to heal a cut on my forehead and I noticed something. He didn't have the same wand he'd had when we were children," she paused for effect. "Harry, could you put your wand on the table please?"

Harry did so and Lyra eyed it knowingly.

"Where did you get your wand, Harry?" Lyra asked.

"I..." Harry's eyes lit up. "It was Draco Malfoy's. I turned it during the war."

The board came alive with interested whispers.

Lyra turned back to the gallery. "Mr. Malfoy, would you come to the table please?"

Draco approached and stood next to her. "Can you confirm that this used to be your wand and that Auror Potter did take it at some point during the war?"

He eyed his old wand with longing. "I can. This was mine and he made off with it when he was being held prisoner at my parent's estate and escaped."

"Thank you," She replied sweetly. "You may return to your seat."

"Get on with it, Auror."

"My point is that this wand is made of an emotional wood, Hawthorne, and has a core that is known for it's good memory. This wand belonged to someone who knew me for years, performed magic on me regularly and also loved me. My theory is that Harry couldn't kill Draco for the same reason he can't hit me with a good stinging hex. This wand simply will not allow it. I imagine this was also a contributing factor as to why it took a highly skilled Auror like Harry so many minutes to get Narcissa Malfoy into a body bind, no offense to her," Lyra explained.

"You may have studied wandlore at your little American school, but unless you are credentialed, it's little more than a guess," Julian fired at her.

Lyra deflated.

The young blonde wizard on the end spoke up. "I am credentialed in wandlore and I believe she has a point." He looked down at Lyra. "Would you be willing to provide a demonstration?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "Auror Gold, would you help me please?"

He joined her in front of the panel. She stationed him at a distance from her and turned to face him. "Auror Gold, I'd like you to hex me. A sting, please."

Gold looked at her like she was insane. Maybe she was.

"Auror Gold. Sting me," she repeated.

He raised his wand.

"Wait!" Lyra waved her hands at him. "Not...not the face, okay?"

He smirked. "Ictusceler-" he shouted, hitting her in the hand.

She squealed and danced around in a little circle waiving her arm around frantically and yelling at him. "Ohmigod, Pip! You could have tempered it a little bit, you animal! I'm unarmed. Unbelievable!" She stomped her foot.

Most of the board members laughed. She turned to them, red faced and flustered, and held out her hand, showing them the emerging welt that was beginning to swell.

She took a deep shaky breath and looked over to Harry. "Ok, your turn."

Draco stood and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ly...Auror Black, is this really necessary?"

She smiled at him, cradling her injured hand to her body. "You want to take this one? For it to be a true test, Auror Gold will have to sting you too," she explained.

"Yes. I'll do it," he replied seriously.

Lyra heard one of the women on the panel say "so sweet," to one of her colleagues.

"No, Draco. I'm fine," she dismissed gently, with a little blush.

He flexed his jaw at her in frustration, but sat down.

"Ok, Potter. Sting me," she said, gathering her courage.

He got up and stood next to Gold.

"I have to tell you nice folk that Auror Potter here, is right mean with a stinging hex. Got me in the eye once. Looked like I hugged a hornet's nest," Gold explained up to the board.

"Yes, Gold. Thank you for that," Lyra quirked, trembling.

Harry leveled her with a wild stare. "Ictusceler-" he bellowed, hitting Lyra in her other hand.

Lyra hissed, and clenched her fist, but that was it. She held her hand up for the board and there was a small pink line, like she'd been snapped with a stick, but it was nothing compared to the other.

The blonde wizard furrowed his brow first in confusion, then arched them in amazement. "Extraordinary! I hate to ask, this is really more for research, but Mr. Malfoy, would you be willing to let Auror Potter sting you? Do feel free to say no."

Draco dropped his jaw in surprise at the odd turn of events. He sighed and eyed Potter warily. "Yeah, alright. To research, I suppose." He got up and stood next to Lyra, who was looking at him with a shocked look on her face. He smiled at her. He knew he was still in the doghouse. A little sting wouldn't undo what damage Astoria had done earlier, but it was a start.

"Not the face. You know I'm far too pretty for that nonsense," he said to Harry in his best aristocratic tone.

Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Ictusceler!" He yelled it so loud that Lyra felt her teeth rattle.

"Bloody hell!" Draco exclaimed in a surprised tone, pulling his hand back. He shook it out a moment and looked down at the scarcely noticeable welt that formed on his skin. "I mean, it definitely doesn't feel great, but I'd call that weak stuff, Potter." Draco quipped with satisfaction.

The blonde wizard was thrilled. "Mr. Potter, for comparisons sake, could you sting Auror Gold?"

"Alright. That's enough. I have a Quidditch match to attend later this afternoon and I'd like to get going," Julian boomed from the center of the board. "Auror Black, final statement."

"British Law does not prosecute wizards for the attempt of unlawful magic that they are incapable of performing. If that were the case we'd be in here all day throwing the book at 14 year olds who angrily say Avada Kedavra at their parents. Further, the night of that raid, with me poisoned and Harry using that particular wand, my boyfriend was unarguably the safest person in the room. What should be concluded by this board is that Harry's actions resulted in the fulfillment of a murderous compulsion curse with absolutely no loss of life, executed to protect and defend the life of a three year old child," Lyra concluded.

"Auror Potter, final statement," the red haired witch intoned.

"Um...I love my job, I think I'm pretty good at it and please let me keep it, I guess," he mumbled nervously.

"We'll vote. All in favor of termination, please raise your hands," Julian stated, putting his hand in the air.

He was joined by the old bearded wizard and a pinch-faced witch in red robes. Lyra felt like she was going to vomit.

"All in favor of retention," Julian spoke with a grimace.

Six hands went up and, just like that, Harry still had a job.

Harry and Lyra stared across at each other in shock.

"It seems, Auror Potter, that you still have a job for now, but understand that this assembly severely reprimands you for your irresponsible conduct and know that we will be watching you more closely in the future," Julian fumed from his seat.

"Yes, Sir. Understood. Thank you," he nodded seriously.

"We are adjourned," Julian said with an angry bang of his gavel. He rose from his seat and exited immediately.

Lyra rushed into Harry's arms with a squeal as he lifted her off the ground.

Gold laughed and wrapped his arms around the pair of them.

"Brilliant, Lyra. You were brilliant," Harry breathed to her, still in disbelief.

"Well done, lass. Sorry about your hand." Gold quipped.

"I hate you," she said with a laugh as Harry set her back down.

The door Harry and Lyra entered through flew open at that moment, ushering in a breathless and windswept Shacklebolt trailed by Zabini, Rossman and Simpkins who appeared to have struggled to keep up. Shacklebolt looked mad. Real mad.

"I want an explanation as to why my Auror went up to board a day early with only an hour's notice!" He boomed.

The red haired witch, who was making her way to the inquisitors exit paused and spoke. "Kingsley, I'm so sorry. We were told that you were made aware yesterday. An unforgivable mix-up. You'll be happy to hear that Auror Potter and Auror Black nevertheless made an excellent case and the board ruled in favor of Mr. Potter," she said warmly before making her way out the door.

Shacklebolt stared in amazement at Harry and Lyra. "Oh. Quite right," he muttered approaching them to shake their hands calmly.

"It was Lyra. She was unbelievable," Harry beamed at her.

There were cheers and back pats all around in congratulations. Lyra was thrilled with the outcome. It had almost eclipsed her lunchtime debacle with Draco and Astoria. Speaking of Draco. Lyra spotted him walking back to his seat for his jacket. Punk thought he was just going to skate on out. Lyra opened her mouth to yell to him.

"Oy, Malfoy!" Harry called, disentangling himself from his cadre of well-wishers and walking over to him.

Lyra hung back so she could observe.

Draco fought, but failed, to keep the scowl off his face. "What is it, Potter?" He asked.

Harry clicked his jaw to stamp down his instinctive reflex to call him a rodent...or punch him. "Er...thank you, for what you did. Sorry about your hand," he mumbled out awkwardly.

Draco flexed his fists to keep himself from calling the dark haired wizard a wanker...or punching him. "I didn't do it for you," he replied coldly.

Harry looked back to Lyra who was watching them with a side-eye while pretending to listen to Rossman. "Yeah, she's something else. Regardless of why you did it, I'm grateful," he said extending his hand.

Draco stared at Potter's hand like he was trying to give him a rotting fish. He was about to tell the wanker to piss off when he saw Lyra's hazel eyes flash in the crowd. He inhaled warily and shook the other wizard's hand without enthusiasm.

"Right. Okay," Harry stammered before walking away. He passed Lyra on his way back to the group and she squeezed his arm playfully.

Lyra walked smugly up to her boyfriend who smirked at her knowingly.

"They'll be no living with you after this, Black. Your ego arrived ten steps back," He quipped at her.

She smiled prettily, but Draco saw the exact moment her high faded with the recollection of what had happened earlier in the day.

"Let's just say that it was a boost I could use," she said looking down at her feet.

"Sweetheart..." he began.

"I heard you defend me. I want you to know that. Thank you," she offered sadly. "It still sucked, though. I thought she and I were cool."

"Lyra, you don't have to thank me for defending you. Defending you is what I'm supposed to do. It's what I want to do." he said, rubbing a soothing hand down her arm.

Lyra nodded.

"I will add it to my list of many occupations. Be rich, look handsome, help my mother, insult Potter, defend my beautiful girlfriend from the ire of jealous women...since there's bound to be so very many," he added, hoping to make her laugh.

Her face cracked into a little smile.

"I've got Scorpius tonight. Will you come over? We can talk about it," He said.

Lyra looked up at him. "Harry wants to have people over for dinner tonight. And, I agree that we should talk about it but..." she looked away to her friends with longing. "I'd like to have today, you know? I want to celebrate with Harry and not worry about the fact that your fancy Ex wishes that you'd just drop your peasant girlfriend and go to a brothel instead."

Draco frowned. He wanted her with him so he could wrap her in his arms and worship every inch of her until there was no doubt in her mind that she was a goddess worth ten Nagini sirens. Still, she was telling him what she needed, so he swallowed his reticence and decided not to argue, despite all of his inner desires.

He huffed and nodded. "Of course. You have fun. Celebrate your win," he said, trying not to pout.

"Oh, look at that pout," Lyra teased. "I could just bite it off you."

"I'd allow it," he quipped, smoldering at her with his pale eyes.

Lyra smirked. She raised her hand, the one Gold had hit with his hex. It was swollen and tight. "Will you heal this for me?"

"Gods, witch. Didn't anybody ever teach you a healing incantation? I mean your mother is a Mediwitch, for Merlin's sake. It's embarrassing!" He exclaimed.

She chuckled and leaned into him, dropping her voice. "I want you to do it. I like feeling your magic on my skin. It feels like you're kissing me," she whispered.

 _Right, okay then._ He smiled at her and pulled out his wand. He passed it over her hand, reducing the swelling and mending the welt.

"When can I see you again?" He asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Tomorrow night, Savoy, Indian food?" she offered.

"I'd like that," he replied.

"Me too," she said up at him shyly.

"Have fun, love," he said kissing her hand and leaving the room.


	42. Chapter 42

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England  
Grimmauld Place  
** **Wednesday**

Ginny Potter was having a frustrating day off. First of all, she was infinitely pregnant and could barely breathe half the time. Secondly, her daft husband and all of his dark-magic fighting friends had come over last night to celebrate Harry's victory at the review board. Ginny was glad as well, he'd been so wound up about it, but nothing NOTHING was going to get the smell of cigar smoke and out of her kitchen drapes.

She'd shooed a very hungover Harry and Lyra off to work early with a sparse breakfast and absolutely no sympathy. _Midweek shenanigans, like a bunch of bleeding teenagers_ , she thought to herself.

She bustled around the ruined room, spelling up spills when she was startled from her grumbling by a rushed knock on the door.

 _Oh what's this now? As if I didn't have enough to do_. She was grateful that her mother had agreed to take the children so she could catch up on some things in the nursery to prepare for the baby. _Another baby, what was I thinking..._

There was another impatient knock as she waddled down the long corridor. "Alright! I hear you!" She called, annoyed.

She opened the front door and was presented with the handsome and almost contrite looking face of Draco Malfoy.

"Uh..." Ginny said.

"May I come in?" He asked nervously.

"What?" She asked, stunned?

"I need to talk to you," he explained, as if that made any sense either.

She stammered for a moment. "I wouldn't go this way. We have a ghost that doesn't like you much, you see. Come round the back, by the kitchen," She instructed.

"Fine," he huffed proudly and disappeared down the alley.

Ginny shut the front door still not entirely sure what was happening. "Marius?" She called.

"I am here, Mrs. Potter," the ghost replied.

"Draco Malfoy is here. He's the man who-"

"I know who he is," the ghost said whirling an eddie of sand in agitation a ways down the long corridor.

"Yes. Well, I'm going to let him in though the kitchen, please don't blast him, okay?" She said, walking back down the hallway. She paused a moment before adding "Well...unless he's being an awful little ferret. In that case, by all means. You know I absolutely trust your judgement."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," the ghost said fondly.

"Thank you, Marius," she said with a smile. She rather liked the family ghost.

She opened the back door and he pushed in past her without a word.

"Do come in," she said sarcastically.

"It smells like a bloody ashtray in here," he stated with a frown, sitting himself down at the long table.

Ginny scoffed. "I know that, thank you very much. I will have you know that your little girlfriend played a part in all that debauchery," she informed him.

He snorted. "Lyra doesn't smoke."

"No she doesn't. She got right well snockered last night and tried a drag from one of Gold's Eqyptian pipes. Almost lost her supper all over the hearth. It wasn't pleasant, but it was funny," she replied.

He chuckled and looked into the fire, seemingly lost in thought.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She asked, startling him from his musings.

"I wanted to talk to you...about Lyra," he replied.

"Why me?" She inquired.

"Because my mother loves me too much to be candid and my ex-wife is...my ex-wife. Plus, you know Lyra and she respects you," he explained.

"Right," Ginny replied skeptically. "Get on with it, then."

"I know that she's in a difficult situation with everything that's happening and I want to help her. I know she's stressed out and I don't know what to do," he began.

"Break up with her. Let her date someone who isn't made entirely of red flags. Are we done here?" Ginny quipped with a sardonic smirk, bracing herself for the blonde wizard's venomous push back. She was disappointed, however, when he just stared down at her dining room table, looking crushed and lost. _Oh gods. My feet are swollen to banana boats and now I've a sad rat on my hands. That's just excellent..._

She wandered over to sit across from him. "What else?" She asked.

He sighed heavy and long. "Lyra overheard Astoria and I arguing and she said some nasty things that I think reinforced a lot of...insecurities that she has about herself and us. I cocked this up badly the last time and I want her to feel...I want her to know that I love her and I would do anything to see her safe and happy."

"Well...have you tried telling her that you love her and that you would do anything to see her safe and happy?" Ginny inquired.

He pulled back in revulsion. "Of course not! Are you insane? That would terrify her!" He exclaimed.

"And you know that how?" The redhead asked.

He snorted indignantly. "Because I just do."

"What have you done so far?"

"She asked for space last night, so I gave it to her. I'm trying not to push when I sense that she'd prefer I leave things alone," he explained.

Ginny quirked her lips. "I mean, that's all well and good, but where's the action? And most importantly, where's the jewelry? I mean, you've gotten me more jewelry lately than your own girlfriend and, frankly, Ferret I am appalled," she paused. "Thank you, by the way. They're stunning on me."

"So I've heard," he replied tiredly. "I don't want her to think I'm trying to buy her forgiveness. It's driving me mad," he said putting his face in his hands.

"Thank the gods you don't have any qualms about buying my forgiveness," Ginny quipped.

"Do you? Forgive me, that is?" Draco asked.

Ginny arched an auburn eyebrow in surprise. "How can I possibly? You haven't apologized," she pointed out.

Draco balked. Malfoys don't apologize. They don't admit fault. Why should he apologize? He had no memory of it. His proud nose twitched in agitation.

Ginny tilted her head at him knowingly.

Draco didn't compel her when she was little and he didn't remember blowing up her house but it was undeniable that his family had hurt the witch in front of him in innumerable ways. His father would never even recognize it, his mother would simply pretend it didn't happen. That really only left one person to own up to it.

He inhaled warily. "Alright you pushy thing! I'm sorry for blowing up your house and for scaring you and the Potterlings. I'm sorry for calling you Weaselette...as recently as last week and I'm sorry that I will probably always think your husband is a wanker, as related to the fact that he really is just a huge wanker." He took a pause and began again in a softer tone. "I'm sorry that my nasty father put a horcrux in with your schoolbooks that compelled you when you were a girl and I'm sorry that I didn't give a damn or even think about it until he did a similar awful to me and Lyra reminded me," he said seriously, unable to meet her eye. This level of honesty was so fundamentally antithetical to his Malfoy upbringing that he could practically feel his grandfather rolling in his grave.

He waited for her to laugh. To gloat. To reject him gleefully.

She said nothing. She was stunned.

They sat in silence awhile. It was getting weird. He was just about to stand up and see himself out when Ginny spoke.

Ginny cleared her throat awkwardly. "Go on...about the bit with Lyra," she clarified.

Draco sighed. "I want to be everything for her. Buy everything for her. Do everything for her. I want her to be happy always and never want for a thing. I understand that that is unrealistic but I don't even know where to begin and once I start, I'm afraid I'll scare her away," he mused.

Ginny cocked her head. "I think some of this is coming from you simply not knowing how to behave in relationships very well. Clearly you know her, but what are the things that you do that reliably make her happy, that improve her life?"

He groaned miserably. "Not enough, I can tell you that much."

"No. Stop whining. Think," Ginny fired, snapping her fingers at him.

He scowled at her for a moment, chastised by her unwillingness to put up with his bellyaching. "I can calm her down sometimes when she's nervous," he offered.

"How?" She asked.

"By talking to her," he said.

"What do you say?"

"Er...I remind her that she's not alone, that I'm with her, that she's brave," he explained.

"What else?"

"I heal her when she's hurt," he added.

"Why?"

"She asks me to. Says she likes feeling my magic on her skin."

"Hmm."

"I give her plenty of orgasms," he said cockily.

"Oh come on! Don't torture me with mental images of your pasty white corpse doing unspeakables to my friend," she protested.

"I make her laugh. Challenge her. Make her think," he amended.

"Well listen, mental scaring aside, all of those things you're describing come from presence. By simply being with her and trying your best to support her. I'm not a legilimens, but I read Lyra pretty well. I think what she's looking for is someone who is willing to put in the work and I imagine she's afraid to open herself up fully to you because she's worried you won't do it. I mean you love her, sure, but love without sacrifice loses trust and love without trust isn't the kind of love you can depend on. So why bother," she explained.

Draco was gobsmacked by the young witch's keen insight. "What should I do?" He asked.

"Tell her the truth. That you love her, that you want to do everything you can to make it last and then do just that," she explained.

He nodded.

"Perhaps buy her some bloody jewelry while you're at it!" She exclaimed with an exasperated huff.

He snorted.

"I don't know how this will make you feel and frankly I don't really care, but you should know that your relationship sounds pretty normal. It sounds like two complicated people trying to find a partner in each other. Expect that you'll fight, expect that you'll struggle and muck it up sometimes. Muddle through your bad days and appreciate the good," she explained.

"So that's it, then?" he asked.

"What's it?"

"You're saying that the big secret making something like this work is that there is no big secret to making something like this work," he mused.

She smiled. "I'm saying there's no shortcut. No way to buy success overnight."

"What about the jewelry? Isn't that buying it?" He asked.

"No. Don't you project that on to the jewelry. The jewelry is bigger than you are. The jewelry never did anything to anybody but sparkle and bring joy," Ginny counseled him very seriously.

"So I should buy her jewelry," he joked.

"Yes. And feel free to also buy me jewelry," she quipped.

"Right," he quipped, absentmindedly.

"Harry hates it, you know," she informed him hopefully.

"Does he?" Draco replied, perking up. "Alright, Potterwife. You have my attention," he said with a smirk. "When's your birthday then?"

"Eleventh of August," she replied happily. "When's yours?"

"Fifth of June," he replied. "Why?"

"Honestly? Because other than thinking that you're a near total bastard and recalling that you can be transfigured into an adorable rodent, I know practically nothing about you," she said. "It's weird given that we more or less grew up together," she remarked.

"I wouldn't say we grew up together. I worked pretty hard to keep myself stringently separated from the riff-raff, thank you very much," he replied sarcastically.

"I have to ask you. What was growing up even like for you? You were such a arse...sorry. I mean, you have a child, I have children. They...they aren't born mean. They're made mean," she mused, daring to poke the bear.

He frowned. "It wasn't as if my father was like 'alright, son. make sure you hate the following sorts of people,'" he explained. "I suppose it started with that I was taught that I was special, and not special in the way that all parents tell their children, but special in ways that would provide me with actual privileges as I moved through the world. First as a wizard, second as a pureblood and thirdly as a Malfoy."

"Ah," Ginny responded.

"The hardest part of that lesson is that it has, more or less, proven to be true, which makes it hard to give up as a perspective. You, for example, are a witch and a pureblood. Can you honestly tell me that being those things has never provided you with benefits you didn't deserve?" He asked.

"No. I can't," she replied thoughtfully. "I see your point."

"The problem is that somewhere along the line I picked up the lesson that special people were entitled to things non-special people were not and since I was just about the most special thing there was, I deserved more than they did. I didn't see other people as equals, I saw them as tools, I...I still do a lot of the time," he admitted. "It's easy to be mean to a tool. It's like it doesn't count. Like it's not real."

"Given that, how did you and Lyra even become friends?" Ginny asked.

He snorted. "I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that I tried very hard not to be Lyra's friend and she simply wouldn't allow it."

Ginny laughed. "That doesn't surprise me in the least."

"I liked her almost instantly and then I felt guilty for liking her because she wasn't special. I remember thinking that my father would probably try and get Snape fired if he knew that I was studying with an American witch who had no money and no connections," he explained.

"When did it change?" She asked.

"With legilimency, actually. Lyra saw me. That is, she saw some things about me that I didn't like. I expected her to ridicule me for them as my father would, but instead she told me that it was okay. That I was normal and shouldn't worry so much. For the first time ever, the idea of being normal made me feel free in a way that being 'special' never had because it let me really connect with someone outside my family," he said.

"Blimey," Ginny muttered.

"What?" He asked.

"Er...it's just that you're like...thoughtful...full of thoughts. I didn't expect that...no offense."

He laughed. "What did you think I was doing all those years? Sitting pinch-faced behind a desk writing insults?"

"Well...yes? And making those Potter Stinks badges," she replied.

"Ha! Those were brilliant! I think I still have some at my Mother's. Would you like one?"

"Some days, more than you can possibly know," she replied dryly.

Draco laughed until his sides hurt. They had tea. It wasn't a completely terrible way to pass the morning.


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note - Thank you to Conh3 for the nice review, more jewelry to come! Please follow/review and happy reading! -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Wednesday**

Draco walked out of the elevator at the Savoy to see Lyra's feet sticking out over the arm of the couch where she was reclining. She was speaking into the little Muggle communicator that she carried with her everywhere.

"I don't know why he doesn't, mom. You could always ask," she said into the room. He heard a muted rattle come out of the device that she held.

"Oh sure. Why would you ask when you can keep complaining," she said to her mother with a smile in her voice.

Draco took off his jacket and hung it on the hook. Lyra peeked her head up from the couch and smirked, motioning that she was almost done.

"I know, I know. Hey, I've got to run, Momma, but I love you and I'll talk to you soon," she said.

Draco could hear her mother protesting into the phone.

"Well yes, if you must know, I do have a date," Lyra said grinning fondly at her boyfriend. "Ok. Yeah, I know. Bye! You nosy thing! Love you, bye!" She said, ending the call.

"How's your mum?" Draco asked walking over to where she was laying on the couch and running his hand through her hair.

She made a happy noise and pushed into his hand encouraging him to continue. "She's fine. She's mad at Caelum. She's always mad at Caelum."

Draco chuckled and rubbed his fingers into Lyra's scalp. "About what?"

"Cae is a clone of my father. Her fights with him are essentially an extension of her fights with dad. This one is about dad and Cae not wanting to bring Bex along to Oregon when we all go on vacation in January."

"Bex?" He questioned.

"Rottweiler. Most annoying dog in all of dog history and my mom's third child," she explained.

"Ah," he answered, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Good gods, Lyra. I can smell the hangover on you."

She snorted. "I may...have gotten carried away at the Potter's last night. Gold made me smoke. I barfed in my mouth," she confessed.

"Charming, sweetheart," he replied. "Are you feeling well enough to go out?"

"I'm feeling well enough for takeout. I don't want the noise. I just want to be with you," she replied sleepily.

Draco's heart flipped at her words. "Okay."

"I'll call. Will you pick up?" She asked.

Draco groaned. "Alone? Ugh. Fine."

"You're so brave, baby," she said, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss.

"Well, one of us has to be," he joked, nibbling on her top lip.

Lyra smiled.

After much grumbling, Draco gallantly ventured out for Indian food and they stayed in together, chatting at the table.

He inhaled warily. "Can we talk about what happened yesterday?"

Lyra sighed. "If we must."

"Sweetheart, what she said, it's just Astoria. She struggles with not being the center of attention. Add everything that's going on right now, I should have seen it coming. I'm certain that it's not really about you. It's not personal, " he explained.

She laughed without humor. "I dunno, Draco. It felt pretty personal." She fidgeted in her seat.

"I know, love, but try and look at it from her perspective. All of this attention, all of this interest and none of it is about her. I mean, a few weeks from now, the truth about my absence is going to come out and it's going to make her look even less relevant," He explained.

"So what. So I am supposed to let her take chunks out of me with her teeth because she's not being talked about?!" Lyra asked, incredulously.

He sighed. "Relevance is important to people in our class. If you're not in, you're out and you just get to stand on the outside, watching the world go on without you," he mused, thinking back on the last years of his own life.

"Rich, entitled purebloods are not the world, Draco," she fired.

"Well they sure as hell run it, don't they?" He replied, absentmindedly.

"By coercion and manipulation, not because they're better!" She exclaimed, pinning him with a hard stare.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Americans," he muttered, annoyed.

Lyra froze. He said it the same way Astoria had. The same way Julian Diamond had. The same way his father had. Like it was a judgement, not a description. Like it made her lesser. Stupid. Disposable.

Draco was oblivious to the blow that he'd just dealt her and carried on. "Anyway, she had no right to talk about you like that."

"Right, because only you get to talk to me like that," Lyra interjected bitterly.

Draco balked. "What the hell are you on about?"

Lyra shook her head, her breath quickening with rage.

"Hey. Don't...don't do that. What are you thinking?" He pressed.

"I'm thinking that I'm an idiot for being surprised by what she did! It's just more of the same aristocratic fuckwittery and I knew it was just a matter of time until you pulled the same shit!" She exploded.

Draco was shocked. "What?" He asked.

"You call me American like it's a goddamned slur. Like I'm a child who doesn't get the way the world works. Like I'm a fucking dog," she spat. "And now you're lecturing me about why it's okay for rich people to ridicule me just because their delicate egos are bruised. Unbelievable! Actually, no. It's completely believable and that makes it so much worse."

"That's not what I'm saying. Christ, I defended you Lyra," he dismissed.

Lyra stood. "You probably only defended me because a shot at my reputation is a shot at yours now that we're together! I feel like this is as much about you as it is about her. Your profile. Your relevance."

"How could you think that?" He choked out at her.

She looked down on him. "Because it's a thing that you do," She stated, her voice dead. "Because you're a cunning man who likes to win. Because all of this..the pictures, the interviews. The Dragon and his little American girlfriend, it's a good story," she frowned. "If I were your father, I would tell you to use it. Hell, Severus would tell you the same thing and your mother...God, your mother is playing us like chess pieces. You're the king, I'm the pawn."

"Don't. Don't talk about my mother like that," Draco said to her dangerously.

"Like what...like honestly? I love your mother, Draco. She's an incredible woman and I care for her a great deal, so don't. Don't try to paint me into that corner. You can both care about someone and understand that you're their pet project," she fired at him.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, scarcely able to process her words. This was all going wrong. He had to fix this. "Look, I know this is hard right now and I know you have your list of reasons not to trust me..."

Lyra raged. "MY list. Mine?!" She scoffed bitterly. "Like I made it up?! Like I ripped out my own heart ten years ago. Like I stalked myself for a month. Like I tortured myself to within an inch of my life. How dare you?!"

Draco lost it. He jumped up and got in her face. "Gods witch, it's like you're trying to crush me to dust just because you know you can. What do you want me to do, Lyra?! Go back in time? Be a fucking plebe? Tell me what the hell you want!" He bellowed, his body towering menacingly over hers. He saw her pupils dilate and she moved back. It was fear. She was afraid of him. He recoiled in shame.

His heart broke. For her. For both of them. She was tired, she was afraid and she was hurt. Instead of helping her rest, quelling her fears and licking her wounds all he'd effectively done was put her in front of the press, lecture her and loom over her like a monster before petulantly demanding she tell him exactly what to do. He'd fucked it all up.

Lyra was done. She already felt bad for the things she'd said. She'd been angry and merciless, but she couldn't bring herself to talk anymore. She'd fucked it all up. She walked past him and locked herself away in the bedroom.

He was afraid he was losing her all over again. _No_ , he thought to himself. _Not this time_. He grabbed his jacket and jumped into the fireplace.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Thursday**

Lyra was woken the next morning by Draco, his warm hand rubbing gently over her bare abdomen. She arched her back into his palm a moment before she remembered the events of the previous evening.

"Lyra. Wake up, love," He said softly to her.

She opened her eyes. He was lying next to her, fully dressed. She turned on to her side and wrapped herself around him, rumpling his suit, stealing his warmth and breathing in his scent. "Sorry for what I said," she whispered to him.

He held her close, letting her drape her body over his. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me."

She nodded, snuggling her face into Draco's shoulder. "What time is it?" She mumbled.

"About half six," he replied.

She groaned. "But I have more time to sleep."

He trailed his fingers down her spine, causing her to shiver deeper into him. "No you don't, little witch. You're mine today."

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

"I want to take you somewhere," he replied, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

Lyra laughed. "I have a job, kid," she said.

"Not today you don't. I'm taking you away," he explained.

"What?" she questioned, pulling back to look at him.

"I got Potter to clear it with your boss. Shacklebolt said to sod off till Monday. I know you're far too much of a workaholic for that, but I want you to come with me. At least for the day," he informed her.

"You went behind my back to get me approval to play hooky at work and I'm supposed to just be okay with that? You can't just take me on a mystery outing whenever we fight. It fixes nothing. It changes nothing," she replied, feeling an uneasy tension rising in her belly.

He paled. "I guess I really didn't think about it that way."

"How did you think about it, Draco?" She said tiredly.

He huffed. "I just thought that you've been stressed out lately. You've been taking hits for me and for Potter since you got here and I feel like I haven't done anything to help you, except put you on display and lecture you...and that doesn't even address the compelled stalking and attempted murder."

He was trying to help her. In his own flashy, overbearing way, he was trying to ease her mind and take care of her. She looked down and started gently playing with the sleeve of his suit.

He sighed. "You know I went and talked to Ginny Potter yesterday. About things. You mostly. She pointed some things out to me that I hadn't considered before and then last night, when I yelled at you like I did, I saw it. It was right there on your face. You were afraid. Of me. That I'm the same as I was. That I'll abandon you. That I won't fight for you. For us," he regarded her sadly. "Is that close?"

Lyra nodded, unable to look at him.

"Then it's up to me to fix that, and that's what I'm trying to do. Please come," he said.

"Okay," she replied. "Where are we going?"

"Hogwarts," he replied.


	44. Chapter 44

**November 2008  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland  
** **Thursday**

Draco and Lyra walked the grounds together. It was a cold day, but the sun was out and the air smelled amazing. As they strolled, Lyra took stock of the subtle changes she noticed from the post-war reconstruction and wondered what the castle had looked like half destroyed. Draco had been there, she could always ask, but decided not to.

"So, what's next? Do you want to go loom in the hallways and scare the kids, or should we go to the lake?" Lyra asked, squeezing his arm through the thick felt of his jacket.

"Actually, we have an appointment with the headmaster," he informed her.

"Oh? We in trouble?" She asked.

"No. There's something I want to show you," he said.

They made their way to the landing of the Headmaster's office and stood on the lowest step of the staircase, which automatically started winding it's way up to the foyer of the suite. Ilvermorny was modeled after Hogwarts, no doubt, but it was a bit less elaborate in execution. No rearranging staircases, no giant squid. Honestly, Lyra thought Hogwarts could be a bit much.

The staircase ground to a halt and they entered the office.

"Ah. Malfoy. There you are. You're late," came a female voice from behind a large desk.

"Professor McGonagall?" Lyra gasped excitedly, rushing forward to greet the old Scottish witch.

"Hello again, Miss Black. How grown you are! I hear you're an Auror now. You always had such potential," she said.

"Thank you! I'm sorry, I should have called you Headmistress," Lyra said with a grin.

McGonagall nodded. "So you're working with the Aurors in London, is that right?"

"Yes, Ma'am, with an excellent team. Potter, Rossman, Zabini, Gold and Simpkins," she said.

"Ah, some of my absolute favorites...and Zabini," the old witch quipped.

"You know, I feel exactly the same way most days," Lyra retorted.

"So, you said that there was something that you wanted to show her," she said, peering at Draco over her bifocals.

"Yes, Headmistress. If you don't mind, of course," he said politely.

She raised an eyebrow. "Not at all."

Draco guided Lyra to a round almost chapel-like offshoot of the large office. It was full of portraits. All the headmasters of Hogwarts, she assumed. Gray wizards and witches in fine robes and tall hats. He walked her over to one end of the room. Next to Albus Dumbledore, who waved at her warmly, was a portrait of Severus. He was dressed in all black and sitting at a potions bench with something brewing next to him over a flickering flame. He regarded her seriously at first, then inclined his head in greeting.

"Severus," she said to him.

"Lyra," he replied.

"Did you hear about what happened to us?" She asked. Could he get the news and stuff? She didn't really understand how sentient portraits worked. It wasn't her thing.

"I've heard...whispers. Albus has a portrait in the ministry, so he's given me some information," he replied.

Lyra looked over at the portrait of Dumbledore. He'd fallen asleep in his chair. She smiled.

"Is it true?" Snape said to the blonde wizard who was standing, or maybe hiding, behind his short girlfriend.

"Yes," he confessed with an awkward shuffle of his feet.

Snape said nothing, but stared daggers at Malfoy's forehead.

"And you two were supposedly close," Lyra quipped at the pair of them.

"I wouldn't say close," Draco said quietly to her. "He kept me alive, that's for sure."

"Slytherins. It's like...let's make a house exclusively for difficult, emotionally pent up jerks and just see how it goes," Lyra mused aloud.

Lyra saw her father's mouth quirk, which was something he did in place of laughing, or smiling, or telegraphing any emotion whatsoever.

"Did you know that Harry Potter and I have been working together? He has a little boy he named after you. Albus Severus. He's the sweetest thing," she babbled to the portrait.

"Yes, so Mr. Potter's told me," Severus replied, seeming disinterested.

"You two still talk?" She asked.

"Some," he replied noncommittally.

Lyra huffed. Even in vibrant oil paint, he was still a stone wall.

"Thank you," she said to him.

"For what?" He inquired.

"For the warning. For leading me to Harry. He saved my life, you know," she explained.

"It's nothing," he dismissed.

Lyra felt her chest constrict painfully. She had so much she wanted to tell him. "It's not nothing to me, Severus." She looked over at Draco, who had stepped away to give them some privacy, and smiled. "And thank you for him."

Severus huffed. "Well it's not like I picked him for you. He was there, you needed a practice dummy and he was moping, like usual. I take no responsibility for you two whatsoever," he said dismissively.

"So...then should I also thank you for my terrible taste in men?" She asked.

"No. You should thank your mother for that," he said.

Lyra smirked. "I would if I knew who she was."

Severus frowned. "I thought that Kingsley would have mentioned it by now."

Lyra's jaw dropped. "No. He didn't tell me a damn thing!"

"Well, you can address that with him," he replied, disinterested.

"Hell no. I'm addressing it with you. Tell me."

"No," he replied.

Lyra narrowed her eyes dangerously and approached the portrait. "You will tell me who she is or I will rip you off this wall and bury you in the ground." The force in her tone was enough to call Draco back from the other end of the room to stand behind her.

Snape's mouth quirked again. He was laughing at her. "You have her temper. It's amazing to me that you were able to learn occlemency so well with emotions like yours."

"That is the closest thing to a compliment that you have ever paid me," she replied nonplussed. "You have plenty of time to catch up with Harry, but I'm your daughter and you would bait me with her name? No. You left it to other people to raise me, you do NOT get to leave it to someone else to do this. Tell me," she said, schooling her voice to sound sad. She knew he would pick up on the emotional manipulation, but just because you're aware doesn't mean you are immune. _Worth a shot_ , she thought.

The dark haired wizard frowned deeper than normal. He looked back at Draco.

"No," Lyra interjected. "He stays."

Her father rolled his eyes at her. "If you insist. Your mother lives in London. Her name is Almitra Nagini," he replied.

"Fucking hell," Draco muttered.

Lyra looked back at him in question.

Draco looked in between Lyra and her father. _Yeah. Yeah I can see that._

"Bloody well done, man," he said to the portrait.

Lyra scoffed. "Nagini...wait a fucking minute. Is she a prostitute?!"

"Absolutely not." "Not really." Both men replied simultaneously.

"She's...I don't know how to say this, Sweetheart. The Nagini house in London. She runs it. She's a legend. She's stunning and, now that I see it, she's right well written all over your face," Draco explained.

Lyra swallowed hard. "Uh...have you ever..." she began.

"What?! No! No. She's way out of my league...I mean, given the opportunity I would have...just being honest, love."

Lyra wrinkled her face at him in disgust before turning back to Severus. "Why tell me now?"

"In case you have need of her in the future," he explained.

Lyra nodded. "Wait. Is she some kind of pureblood extremist?" Lyra asked, suddenly nervous.

Severus sighed. "She is the reason the London house still exists. She cut ties at the right time. You can hardly blame her though for following the money. It's what she does."

"That's not very convincing," Lyra replied.

"She knowingly gave birth to the child of a half-blood. So, no. She isn't a blood purist. Just an opportunist," he explained.

"Did you love her?" Lyra asked.

"I respected her. Fascinating woman," he replied.

"Did she love you?" Lyra asked.

"That is not for me to tell," he replied.

"Thanks," she said to him.

He inclined his head.

They visited a while longer. Snape gave her the passwords and wardkeys to his home in Spinner's End, in case she needed a safe place to stay. Apparently the Ministry had been trying to make it an espionage museum for years but the protective enchantments had prevented them from even getting in the door.

"You don't want it to be an espionage museum! Why not?! Severus, that is so cool!"

"I want things to be kept quiet," he replied definitively.

Lyra smiled. "I miss you." She didn't mean to say it. It just came out. She realized something in that moment. She was happy. It was an odd feeling because she hadn't felt it like this in awhile. It was her and Draco and Severus. It was Draco observing as she and Severus hurled half-hearted insults at each other because they were incapable of saying 'I love you' like a normal father and daughter. It was familiar. It was something she recognized. Like Draco's face when he walked into the Savoy that day. It felt good.

"Your hair's gotten quite long," Snape said awkwardly.

"I feel like it looks less greasy when it's long. Thank you for that, by the way," she said with a grin, pulling at a lock of her thick black hair.

He waved her off with his hand. "It suits you. Anyway, I'm tired now," he said, turning off the flame under the cauldron with which he shared his portrait.

Lyra frowned. "Okay. Well, you get some rest. Can...can I come see you again?" She asked, feeling like she was eleven years old again and waiting for him to crush her.

He frowned, not sadly, it was just his default. "You may."

She beamed. "Okay."

"Malfoy, a word alone before you leave," Snape said authoritatively.

"Right. Yeah," Draco said, rubbing his neck.

Lyra gave him a confused look. "I'll wait by the stairs, okay?" She looked up at her father. "Bye, Severus," she said with a little smile.

"Lyra," he said, inclining his head.

Lyra paced in front of the stairs for a few minutes until Draco reemerged, looking paler than usual and a bit queezy.

"Uh-oh. Was it threats of violence? Or Poison? Probably poison," She joked, rubbing his arms.

"Something like that," he replied, his face tight.

They headed back outside and Lyra reflected on the day. Draco had thought of everything. He'd gotten permission for her to sit in on a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for sixth years and the Professor had invited her to talk to the kids about being an Auror. He walked her past the Quidditch pitch just long enough for her to make fun of the Hufflepuff house team, but not so long that she got bored. They toured the greenhouses where Lyra was introduced to something called a Neville Longbottom, who was a friend of Harry's and the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. All of it, capped by the afternoon visit with Severus in the Headmaster's office, had made Lyra feel lighter, more like a person and less like a puppet. He'd done good.

Draco led her down to the lake. She removed her jacket and transfigured it into a blanket for them to sit on at the base of a gnarled old willow tree. Draco cast a warming charm around them to ward off the cold.

Lyra sighed dreamily and looked out at the water.

"What are you thinking, Sweetheart?" He asked.

She snuggled into his side. "I'm happy," she replied.

Draco pulled her into him. "Good. That was the idea."

"Does it bother you? Being back here?" She asked him. "I know you have some...bad memories."

"I have good memories too," he reminded her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She smiled. "Oh yeah? Give me one," she pressed.

He thought for a moment. "When McGonagall was making us research advanced arithmancy in the library and you let me get my hand under your skirt for the first time," he quipped.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you're still hopeless at arithmancy, but you have markedly improved at getting your hands under my skirt," she quipped.

He laughed. "How about when Snape made us learn how to cast a Patronus?"

"And you sucked," she added.

"I did not suck. I just needed some incentive," he retorted sensitively.

Lyra snorted. She remembered that odyssey. Draco had not been a particularly happy kid, which presented a problem for performing the charm. The addition of Snape breathing down their throats demanding success didn't help either and he struggled with it where Lyra excelled. Lyra had kind parents, a loving brother and good friends. She had things to draw on. For Draco there was just...less. He'd failed to produce a corporeal form for two of her exchanges over fourth year. Snape had been pretty unkind about his failure, Lyra recalled. During her summer interval, prior to the start of fifth year, Lyra snuck him out of the castle in the middle of the night to help him form some memories that might help. It worked. He cast his first successful patronus while swimming naked in the lake with her, the two of them shivering, laughing and clinging to each other for warmth.

"So do you still use that?" She asked.

"I do," he replied. "I think about you or Scorpius or my mother."

"And it's still a fox," she said smugly.

"Still a fox," he confirmed. He pulled out his wand and cast his patronus out over the lake.

Lyra followed suit and watched fondly as the two little foxes chased each other across the glassy surface until they disappeared. Lyra hummed happily and put her head on his shoulder.

"I have something for you," Draco said, pulling a small box out from a pocket in his jacket and handing it to her.

Lyra gulped. The last piece of jewelry she'd received from him was his mother's quatrefoil. She wasn't sure how she felt now about Draco and little velvet boxes in general. She opened it slowly. "Oh!" She gasped in both surprise and relief.

"Now before you get crazy, know that it cost far less than the Potterwife's earrings," he noted.

"I...I love it. It's beautiful," she replied softly.

It was a small pendant in the shape of a starburst. It was done in silver and covered with tiny sparkling diamonds. It hung from a sheer ribbon instead of a chain and was exactly the kind of thing Lyra would drool over in a store window, but never buy for herself.

"You can charm the ribbon to any color you like," Draco informed her. He picked it out of the box and encouraged her to turn so he could put it around her neck. He spelled the ribbon navy blue to match the dress she wore. The pendant glinted like snow in the sunlight and looked lovely against her honeyed skin. Draco lowered his mouth to her skin and planted a soft kiss along the border of the ribbon.

They readjusted so that he had his back to the tree and she had her back to his chest. Lyra pressed into him and brought his hands around her waist. She tilted her head and nuzzled into his jaw. "Thank you," she whispered to him, trailing her fingers over the necklace. "For the necklace and for today."

Draco smiled. "You're welcome, Sweetheart. Would you like to stay a bit longer? We can get a room in Hogsmeade or go back home. Whatever you like," he offered.

Lyra considered the options for a moment, staring thoughtfully out at the water. "I want to get you out of your clothes as soon as possible, so I'd like whichever arrangement enables me to do just that."

He laughed. "Hogsmeade it is."

* * *

Author's Note - There's a lot going on here I wanted to clarify a few things in this chapter.

First, I read up a little bit on the portraits in the HP world and typically the sentient portraits are restricted to simple mannerisms and mostly catchphrases of the subject, but more powerful witches/wizards can imbue their portraits with more character by interacting with them personally. Severus was an absent headmaster, spending a greater portion of his time serving the Order and Voldemort. When I read the last book, it read to me like Snape knew he could quite probably die. Being a careful, well prepared sort of person, it doesn't seem out of character to me that he would prepare a well developed portrait in advance as a source of help/advice to Harry, Lyra and anyone else he cared about that may need him after his death.

Second, We find out who Lyra's mother is in this chapter and we will be hearing more about her and her relationship with Severus in the future.

Third, I like this AU. I think I might just go ahead and write a damn prequel. Lyra and Draco as kids/teenagers. What do you think?

Thanks and happy reading! -MM


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Note - This chapter is very M rated. Ye be warned. Happy reading! Thanks to Shhh. I'm an alien and Conh3 for the kind reviews. I'm mapping the prequel now. -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008  
** **Hogsmeade Village  
** **Thursday Evening**

"Muffliato-" Lyra muttered at the door of their room at the Hogshead Inn as soon as it had shut.

"Plan on making some noise there, Black?" Draco smirked at her as he removed his tie.

She flashed her molten gold eyes at him and shimmied out of her coat, revealing the tight navy dress she wore beneath. She slinked up to him and ran her hands over his shoulders, to push his jacket to the ground. She reached up and sank her nails into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her so she could kiss him.

The stimulation provided by her fingers in his hair had him groaning into her wet mouth and he reached around her to run his hands down her slender waist and over the sublime curve of her bottom.

They stood there, making out like horny teenagers for probably fifteen minutes. Make no mistake, Lyra liked kissing, but she couldn't remember anyone else she liked kissing this much. Kissing, to her, was typically the foreplay to the foreplay and not the foreplay itself. With Draco, however, his tongue in her mouth, his hands grabbing her ass...fifteen minutes of that left her a wanton, soppy mess.

She dragged her blunt little talons over his collarbones, and let her fingers fly over the buttons of his shirt so she could get access to his skin. She dove in to kiss down his chest, letting her tongue tease his nipples as she found them, causing him to growl at her.

Lyra grabbed his hips and used them as leverage to slowly lower herself down to her knees in front of him, watching his face the entire time.

Draco's eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. He looked at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. It made her feel sexy and powerful.

She trailed her hands inward to his belt to undo his trousers and he inhaled shakily.

"Sweetheart, you don't..." he began, in a husky voice.

"Shut up, baby," she instructed him as she flicked open the button and pulled his zipper down slowly. She dropped his trousers to the ground around his ankles with an unceremonious thud, then pulled his boxers down to free him and took his swollen shaft in one of her small hands. She worked him gently with the soft flesh of her fingers and palms, giving him light tugs that caused him to instinctively push his hips out towards her for more.

Lyra made an amused sound and bit her lip suggestively. "Do you really want me to stop?" she said, letting her warm breath ghost over the sensitive skin in front of her.

"Gods no!" He choked out, dropping his head back to look at the ceiling for a respite from the sight of her on her knees in a tight little dress, jerking him off.

Lyra grinned wickedly before she leaned in and pressed her lips to the underside of his tip in a dry kiss. She spent a few seconds doing the same thing elsewhere, stimulating him with just her lips and breath. No tongue, no spit. One would think that a gesture so simple wouldn't do much for a wizard with the kind of sexual range that Draco had, but the effect on him was fantastic and Lyra couldn't get enough of his hisses and sighs.

Lyra reached for one of Draco's hands and guided it into her hair. "Show me what you like," she muttered. She plunged in more forcefully in that moment, swirling her tongue around him before guiding the head into her mouth to suck.

She felt Draco's hand tighten in her hair.

"Fuck," he groaned.

Lyra made a cocky little hum around him and started taking him in deeper. Draco was long, so she used one of her hands to reach the parts of him her mouth could not. She moved her other hand recklessly, teasing at his thighs, his ass and his balls.

She found a rhythm that seemed to work for him because she noticed that he started thrusting into her mouth with a bit of force and she could feel pressure from his hand on her head leading her to take more. She tightened her grip around his shaft and Draco rewarded her with a dirty grunt.

She was going to kill him. This was it. She was working him like a succubus, and he could say that because he'd actually been with a succubus before. There was no soul stealing, just a lot of sex and about a week of down time afterwards where he could barely stand because the demon had stolen quite a bit of his vital energy. Speaking of standing, he honestly wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand much longer with Lyra sucking his brain out through his cock like she was.

She was incredible. Her mouth was hot silk and she zeroed in with precision on the parts of him that were the most sensitive. Where most girls would limp wrist their handjobs, she gripped on to him tightly, like he would do to himself. The other thing she did that was doing him in was the noise. She'd pop off him and re-attack, making the most indecent slurping noises and she would hum and moan around him as if he tasted like cake.

He looked past the artworthy vision of her pretty lips wrapped around him and noticed that she was rocking her hips back and forth. Little witch was getting off on this, seeking something to give her friction and fill her up. The sight drove him mad and his brain went everywhere at once. He wanted to be inside of her, making her scream but he didn't want to lose the wet sanctuary of her mouth that felt so fucking good.

He clenched his eyes shut and heard her giggle lightly with her mouth full. He looked down at her and she looked back at him knowingly. _Was she in his mind? Gods, he couldn't even tell_. He felt his balls start to tighten, signaling to him that he'd better stop her. He'd take a minute and regroup. Fuck her into the mattress until she couldn't remember her name. Good plan.

He groaned. "I'm going to come if you don't stop."

Lyra moaned and made the sweetest sound known to any man who found themselves in this position. "Mmm-hmm," she hummed happily around his dick, taking him as deep as her small mouth and throat would allow.

 _Bloody hell. Ok, new plan._ He grabbed himself in hand, dislodging hers so he could feed it to her. He pulled on her hair enough to make her squeal happily, but not enough to hurt her.

 _Ohmigod so hot._ He was pulling her hair just how she liked and thrusting into her mouth with force, but not enough to make her gag. He gave her four more stiff pumps before he fucking roared and she felt his hot come burst into her mouth. He was thick and salty-sweet. Lyra loved the primal little system he became when she had him like this. Breathe-grunt-pulse-explode. Draco was an intelligent man and she respected him, but we're all dirty little animals sometimes, even her own polished lover. It drove her crazy and made her want to be a dirty little animal too.

"Holy fuck," Draco whispered once he'd finished. He looked down at her and saw her swiping at his shaft with the side of her tongue. He could see a pool of his pearly release glistening on her tastebuds. She brought her tongue back inside her mouth and swallowed him. He made a choked little noise in the back of his throat.

"Mmmm," she said, in a smug, satisfied tone. She sat back on her heels and spread her knees which caused her dress to ride up her thighs a bit. Her lips were swollen, her hair marvelously tousled.

He pulled her to her feet and crashed his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like skin and seed. It was a dizzying combination. He undid the zipper of her dress and pushed it down her body on to the floor. The smell of her arousal hit him like a bludger and he guided her back on to the bed. He shed his clothes quickly, crawled up alongside her and dipped his hand into her panties. He huffed darkly. She'd done some re-grooming and her hairless lips were powerless to stop the deluge of wetness dripping from her core. She was a mess. "You liked that, didn't you?" He questioned, nuzzling her ear and running his long fingers down her dripping slit.

She whimpered and pressed into him for more. "Did you get off on sucking my cock? Is that what made you so wet?" He mused.

She arched her back full off the bed and whined. She turned her head to him, and panted desperately. "Make me come. I need to come."

"I've got you, love. Open up for me," Draco soothed as he moved down to remove her underwear and drown in her juices. She was so aroused that she came after about five swipes of his tongue and the same number of pumps of his fingers. Her orgasm exploded from her and she screamed, coating his chin with her slick surrender to his work. He looked up from between her legs at her breasts spilling beautifully over the cups of her petal-pink bra, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she came down. He climbed up her body and settled himself over her.

Lyra kissed him deeply and rubbed herself into him for awhile until he was ready for another round. She hooked a leg around one of his and used a surprising strength for someone her size to flip him over.

She straddled his hips and sank down on to him slowly. She loved the way his eyes drooped and his breath caught as she enveloped him in her tight heat. She guided his hands to her waist and leaned forward to place hers on his chest as she started to glide herself on his length, gyrating her hips back and forth to move him inside her.

"Draco," she whispered, tossing her head back.

He looked up at her. The light from the fire threw faint shadows across her chest and stomach and sent her new necklace glittering in the dark like a beacon. She reached behind her back to undo her bra and slid it down her arms in graceful rhythm with her thrusts before tossing it on to the floor. He let his eyes linger hungrily on her tight pink nipples, teasing him with their movement as she worked above him.

"So, beautiful, Sweetheart," he murmured to her.

She smiled at him which caused his heart to constrict in his chest. She bowed her back out, bringing her ass more firmly in contact with his thighs and clenched her muscles around his throbbing erection. It felt like he was being smothered in velvet and hot cream.

"Put your knees up," she directed.

He complied and Lyra leaned back further, executing an amazing gymnastic move that put her feet underneath his ribs and her back against his knees without so much as a missed pump. The view this new position provided was exquisite. He could watch her face, which he loved, but he could also watch her slide herself down over his dick in his favorite disappearing/reappearing act of all time. He popped up on to his elbows to enjoy the show.

Lyra was watching it too, her face tense with desire. She recalled recently making fun of Draco for fixating on their locked hips like a hungry dog to a bone, but she had to admit that there was something deliciously carnal about watching her sex devour him over and over. Watching her muscles stretch to accommodate his width, seeing her hungry flesh cling to his shaft when he pulled out as if her body, mindless and primal, wanted him inside her forever. _Mmmm...Draco inside me forever. That would be just fucking fine_ , she thought to herself.

Draco groaned something unintelligible and Lyra felt him withdraw from her mind. Lyra gasped. He'd heard her dirty thoughts.

He dropped flat on to his back and panted heavily, bringing his hands to his temples to ease the ache. Being inside her body was intoxicating but being inside her mind and hearing her think that way was transcendent. He hoped she wasn't mad.

Lyra flipped herself back to their original position with her legs behind her. She brought her chest down to his, never pausing the sinful work of her hips. She kissed along one of his ears and massaged her lips gently against his temple to soothe the pain. "Slow," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She felt, suddenly, that they were having a different kind of sex than they'd been having a minute ago. She pressed her forehead to his and let the room spin as she shared her breath with him.

He trailed his fingers down the spindles of her spine and toyed with the dimples on her back. Every touch was a mark. A confession. Lyra didn't have to read him to know what he was thinking. She didn't want to read him. Her heart thumped erratically. She wanted him to say it. To tell her. What did that mean?

"I love you," he whispered into the minuscule space between them.

Lyra barked out a half-moan, half-sob and ground herself into him deeply. She dropped her head into his shoulder. "Say it again," she begged.

"I love you," he choked out, followed by a deep groan.

Lyra shattered. Her orgasm hit her like the crack of a whip and it hurt. It was too much. Too hard. Between her core, her brain and her heart, he had liquefied her and made her a boneless river of aimless devotion. She had no idea what to do. It was uncomfortable and raw, but exhilarating. She would tell Draco much later that the closest thing she could think to compare it to was the feeling of having her nipple pierced when she was 23 and on vacation with some girlfriends in the Bahamas.

He flipped her over and drove into her slack body urgently. Lyra just stared up at him in awe. He was magnificent. He was scarred and he was a complicated brat and there was nothing in the world better than this. Being with him. Being under him. Being loved by him. Nothing. Not coffee. Not success. Not even pancakes.

Lyra loved him, she knew that. She had loved him since...well since she was twelve, but then all of the other stuff happened. She knew that she loved him again just the day before during their fight. She had been so angry and hurt, embarrassed and scared, but never once, during the spar did she think "I could leave him. I could run." The truth was that she didn't want to. She wanted him. She wanted them. She wanted to push. More than anything, she wanted to believe in him and that simple notion was the scariest thing to happen to her in a long time...and she knew scary pretty well.

 _Say it,_ she thought _. Don't be a coward, Do not be the person who can't say it back_ , she pleaded internally. She leaned up and pressed into him for a kiss. To give herself a second to tremble, another second to be afraid. _No more_ , she told herself.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth, before falling back down to the pillow, gazing up to study his face.

Draco paused and looked down at her. Her hazy eyes, her flowing breath. "Say it again," he murmured. He was hallucinating. He was sure of it.

She smiled, her confidence renewed by the stunned look of disbelief written across his face. She reached up to run her hand along his cheek. "I love you," she repeated.

He shook his head and collapsed down on to her, hiding his face in the swell of her breasts. She responded by carding her fingers through his hair and rubbing her other hand soothingly across the scar on his back, letting it prick her fingertips.

"Don't you want to finish?" She asked him, referring to the stiff flesh poking her in the thigh.

"I want this," he replied, burrowing deeper into her embrace.

She hummed and closed her eyes. They laid like that for what seemed like hours, but also like minutes. At some point, he found his way back inside and stirred her slowly, bringing her a gentle peak of pleasure before letting himself go. He trembled roughly as he came, stripped of his wits and his strength by the sweet acceptance he found between her legs.

They slept hard in a tangle of sweaty limbs and contented breaths. Draco awoke the next morning before she did and pulled her back into his chest, pressing his lips to her hair and whispering that he loved her about a thousand times, as if he could cover her with his words and have her take them everywhere she went.

After about an hour, she stirred and flopped over him like a spoiled housecat. He ran a feather-light palm down her back and she shivered into him, mumbling happily. He caught his name and the word 'pancakes' but nothing else.

After all of the emotional surprises from the night before, Draco had to admit that he was reassured by the return to normalcy. Lyra was sleeping on top of him, arms and legs out like a bloody starfish and she was dreaming about pancakes. It would do.


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note - Rated M up to the first page break. I'm trying to be careful with the next few chapters because they move quickly and there's a lot of detail, so I'm taking a little extra time. Thanks for sticking with me! -MM**

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Friday**

They spent the morning eating a cozy breakfast in their room and finding flimsy excuses to touch each other. Lyra knew she was, in her dad's words, being a 'clingy little wildebeest,' but she didn't care, and Draco didn't mind at all.

They used the floo in the Hogshead to go back to the Savoy apartment and Draco enjoyed watching her grumble around morosely, getting ready for work.

"You could always not go, Sweetheart," he reminded her as she spelled her hair dry in front of the bathroom mirror after a quick shower.

Lyra sighed. "I know, but I'll feel lazy and guilty if I don't. I am here on exchange to be an Auror, not to eat pancakes and get laid," she informed him with a determined frown.

Draco laughed and walked up behind her, gripping her waist over the towel loosely wrapped around her body. He bent down and ran his nose along the juncture between her neck and shoulder breathing her in. She hummed and pressed herself into him, like he knew she would. "I don't see any good reason why you can't do all three of those things. You're a relatively ambitious woman," he teased.

She glared at him in the large mirror.

"My point is that you're getting ready for work, and you've already had pancakes today, so..." he mused, pressing his clothed erection into her terrycloth covered bottom and dropping soft kisses along her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance but then groaned when he lightly sunk his teeth into her sensitive skin. She turned in his arms, and hopped up on to the marble-topped vanity in the bathroom. She reached out for him with her naked legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling their groins together.

Draco gave a satisfied huff and leaned into her.

"You have exactly ten minutes," she whispered, reaching for the button of his trousers.

"Ever the romantic," he mused playfully as he slipped a hand under her towel to get her ready for him.

Draco watched a ripple of tension run through her expression She was thinking about something. He leaned in to touch his forehead to hers.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Say it again," she whispered shyly, pressing in to him.

She was nervous, he could tell. He surmised that she was afraid that with the sun up and their clothes on (more or less), he wouldn't have the guts to say it. That it would change how he felt, as if anything could.

He pulled his hand from her, ignoring her displeased whine, unsheathed his cock and pushed inside her hard, without warning.

Lyra cried out and let her head fall back into the mirror with a thud.

Draco groaned as he entered her. She was tight from the lack of foreplay and not as wet for her comfort as he would have liked, but he had to. He had to be there. He pulled her close to him, bringing their chests together. He angled her face up to look at him as he started pistoning his hips against hers.

"I love you, Lyra," he said plainly.

She made a choked little gasp and felt like she could breathe again. "I love you too, baby," she informed him with a proud smirk before leaning in to kiss him He loved hearing her say it. He worried that, with her being the more outwardly loving one of the pair, she would have to pull it out of him too much. He didn't want her to have to ask. He wanted her to know, to feel it in her bones, on her skin, in her sex.

Lyra wrapped her arms around him tightly and protested to have him let her down. He frowned but complied. She set her feet back on the floor and pulled the towel from her body leaving her bare. She turned her back to him and leaned over the counter, watching him like a hawk.

Draco let his breath out hard and charged in. He grabbed her hip with one hand and guided his cock back inside her with the other, enjoying the way Lyra dropped her forehead to the cool marble as he stretched her.

As he resumed his quick thrusts, Lyra looked into the mirror and ran her gaze over the sexy picture they made. Draco's dark clothing rubbing on her tan skin, his pale fingers curved firmly around her waist, her long hair swaying rather prettily in time with his work. _Not bad at all_ , she quipped to herself before Draco hit something delicious inside of her and she had no more brain left for quips.

She could tell that he was getting there. She'd become somewhat of an expert on that these last few weeks. Truth be told, he hadn't really changed all that much in that way since they were young. His eyes would slot to half lids, his hands would squeeze into her flesh, his breathing would lose tempo and every so often he would emit a sound that straddled the delicate balance between deep groan and low growl. All of it was him and it was so irresistible it made her toes curl. She didn't expect to come from this, she needed a little more time, but she would be damned if she ever turned down the chance to see him lose his mind.

"I'm gonna come, Sweetheart," he warned her.

She smiled and pushed her hips back to invite him in further. "As deep as you can. I want to take you with me to work," she purred, hoping it would have the intended effect.

He growled, pulled her body back into his chest with an alarming strength and lifted her off the ground. Lyra felt jailed in his embrace like she was being strangled by snakes; one around her breasts, one around her waist and another buried deep inside her, pulsing with victory and filling her with warmth. She laid her head back on his shoulder and happily went limp in his arms. It felt amazing.

He moaned into her hair as his cock gave a few final throbs and he lowered her feet back down. The action caused him to slip from her body and Lyra could feel gravity start to do it's work on what he'd given her. She turned and kissed his jaw as he panted and then scurried into the bedroom, slipping into a pair of red panties.

She bustled around the room, finding a suitable outfit. Draco, after he had put himself back together, watched her with amusement from the doorway.

She was bending over to pick up her skirt when she felt the caress of his magic on her backside and around her hips. She gasped and looked up to see him pointing his wand at her with a cocky smirk. "What are you..." she began and then looked down at her panties. He had turned them a deep green.

"Smartass," she mumbled, pulling up her skirt. She finished getting dressed and ventured out into the kitchen to down an espresso.

Lyra stole a few minutes before she left to kiss him, long and deep. He ran his hands over her bottom and whispered sinful things in her ear about how hot it was to know part of him would be inside her while she did her work. His words readily fed the dull, unsatisfied ache protesting from between her legs.

"You owe me one, baby," she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.

"And I'll give you three to start when you get home," he replied with confidence.

"You're a cocky little thing, you know that?" she laughed, pressing a hard peck to his cheek.

"I do," he replied.

She reluctantly disentangled herself from his embrace and hopped into the fireplace, giving him a little wink before she disappeared into the green flames.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday**

She flooed into the Auror's Common at about nine. There weren't a lot of people around, which wasn't unusual for a Friday.

"Lyra. It's good you're here," Harry's voice came from behind her.

She turned to him and smiled. "Hey! Is Gin still mad at us? Tell her I'll watch the kids on Saturday if she wants. I'll watch you too. She can buzz off and go get a massage or something," she babbled to her friend.

Harry blanched. "Ginny and the kids are going to her mother's for awhile," he said seriously.

Lyra frowned and reached up to squeeze his arm. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

The dark haired wizard sighed. "There was a break in at Azkaban. Malfoy. He's...we don't know where he is."

She paled instantly. It felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Harry took the hint and guided her over to the worn leather couch behind them. "When?"

"Just this morning. About an hour ago," he replied.

"Scorpius. Where is he?" Lyra asked in alarm, suddenly sitting forward.

Harry furrowed his brow. "With his mother, I assume."

She lept up. "We have to hide them, Harry. We have to hide all of them. Now."

"How do we know he'll come after them? Maybe he's just fled," Harry countered, trying to calm her.

"He will come after them! You know that! If you thought otherwise, you wouldn't be hiding your own family?!" Lyra fired desperately. "I've been in his mind, Harry. He's a proud, shrewd sociopath who's been made a fool of by his unworthy son and a filthy American. He is not going to disappear into Europe for some R&R when he's got people to crush and misery to create. Look. I need to get Draco. We have to get Scorpius, his mother and Narcissa. You know they aren't safe. You know it."

Harry frowned powerfully and considered her words. She was right. Malfoy was a status seeker, but now that his reputation was about to be effectively shattered again, it seemed unlikely that running and hiding would be enough for him. Losing that would surely be a blow to his entire worldview. People who have their foundations shaken in that way can be extremely dangerous, especially people who are spoiled and entitled. Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man before all of this happened. He would be even more so now.

"I think you're right," he conceded.

"Good. I have to go check in with Shacklebolt," she replied, giving his arm another squeeze before turning down the hallway to the Head Auror's office.

Shacklebolt informed her that the break in had freed several high profile blood purists and appeared to be a highly coordinated attack. MLE was working on it, but so far they were unsure if Lucius was freed intentionally as part of this group or just happened to get lucky.

"Well that's fucking great," Lyra sighed miserably.

"You're afraid," Kingsley mused knowingly from behind his desk.

"You're damn right I'm afraid, boss! I'm afraid for Draco and his family, because they're important to me, but I'm also scared for me. The last time I saw this guy he threatened to have me killed in my sleep and I punched him in the face. So, let's just say I have a few personal concerns about his new found freedom," she lamented. "We need to bring Draco and his family in. They're not safe out there. There's too many avenues of approach. Too many ways to get at them. These people have too much goddamned real estate if you ask me."

"I think you're right about bringing them in...and also about the real estate," the old wizard replied. "We'll send people."

Lyra nodded with a frown. "Only us. Only Harry and our team. I don't trust anybody else," she said.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Black..."

"No. I don't buy for a second that he got out by mistake, and I don't think you do either. It's Azkaban which means if he had help it's likely that it came from someone in the AD or MLE, and it could very well be more than one someone. I want my team for this," she pressed.

The old wizard nodded. "Alright," Shacklebolt conceded. She sounded so much like her father in that moment. He mused that if he hadn't already known, he may have guessed it himself. The simmering anger and calculated mistrust. She, like Severus, tended to get more right than wrong with her suspicions, if that said anything about the sorry state of the world they lived in. The old wizard snapped back to present and regarded the young woman before him seriously.

"Go get Draco, bring him here. Potter will take care of the rest," he instructed.

"I'm on it," she replied.

Lyra left his office and headed back to the common. She was scared, pissed and so incredibly over Lucius Malfoy. Someone _should just fucking kill him. I know it's evil but some people just need to die_ , she thought to herself before flooing back to the Savoy.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Friday**

She rushed into the living room at the Savoy. She hadn't been gone more than an hour and figured he'd still be there getting ready. She was nervous. She didn't know how he would take the news. She didn't even know what to say.

She rounded the couch, trying to compose herself for the task, and saw blood on the floor. A lot of blood.

She let herself blip into insanity for a fraction of a second before her training set in. Wand out, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and spells to silence her footfalls and movements.

She slinked back, away from the blood to access the kitchen from the other direction.

She rounded the island and saw Draco on the ground. He was paper white and unconscious with deep gashes in both arms, his blood spilling freely on to the wood beneath him. He had a syringe still sticking out of his left bicep. Heroin. It got about as much love in the wizarding world as it did in No-maj-land, which was too much. She knelt next to him, coating her legs in his blood and spelled his wounds shut. Her mother had taught her the rather complicated incantation for returning blood to a host but it would have to wait. She wasn't alone. She could feel another person in the apartment. She pulled the needle from his arm and trailed a shaky hand to his lips. His breathing was frighteningly slow but he was alive. _Thank god_. She ran her hand through his blood soaked hair and stood.

She heard a faint sound from their bedroom and walked to the edge of the blood spot on the floor, stepping out of her heels. She crept down the hallway with her wand forward and peered into the room from the corner of the doorframe. There, she saw herself. Lyra Black was in her room throwing things haphazardly into her suitcase. It was surreal. It was her, but something was off about the eyes. The person wearing her face made her hazel eyes look dead and tense. She wondered absently if Draco had noticed it before her doppelganger had gotten the jump on him. _Fucking polyjuice_. She could smell it. It smelled like sweat and stale beer.

The woman zipped up Lyra's suitcase and made for the door. Lyra pulled back silently and went back to the living room to observe. The impostor pulled a role of parchment from her jacket pocket and scrawled a note on it in a decent approximation of Lyra's handwriting before dropping it on the marble of the counter. She picked up Lyra's suitcase and made for the elevator.

"Incarcerus. Prohibe Oclumensi." Lyra said at moderate volume. She sounded almost bored, she thought to herself. _I may be losing my mind, just a smidge. No big deal._

Ropes encircled the intruder and she fell to the ground. Lyra stepped forward. The woman had landed on her face. Lyra kicked her so she rolled over on to her back.

"Hey girl," Lyra said dismissively.

The woman hissed.

"Legilimens," Lyra spoke, with her wand pointed at her mirror image.

 _Fuck you, bitch._

 _Well, aren't you adorable?_ Lyra thought.

Lyra stomped through her mind like Godzilla over the city of Tokyo. She let the information buzz around her like an annoying mosquito. Nothing with these fucking people would ever surprise her again. _I mean...for fuck's sake._

Her impostor was a woman named Ophira Nagini. She was one of the girls at the London house who considered herself untouchable because she had the distinction of being the boss's niece. She also fancied herself next in line to marry Lucius Malfoy once his present wife was dead, which would hopefully be soon. Poor Lucius's family had abused him terribly, you see, and it was just better and more convenient if they all died.

Her part in all this was to kill her lover's ungrateful son. He was a weak and moody little thing, irrevocably in love with some classless American whore. He left it up to her how she did it, but requested that it be as bloody and pathetic as possible. She decided to make it look like he had gotten high and killed himself after his muddy little girlfriend had left him to go back home. Lucius had his own plans for the girl. Ophira was supposed to make it look like she'd left, but the girl herself was not to be touched.

She put the stupid Muggle footman under Imperious and sent him into the flat very early in the morning to retrieve some hair from the woman's hairbrush so she could use it for the polyjuice.

Lucius's son was confused when his black-haired girlfriend entered the flat through the elevator, apparently the actual witch had left only a bit before. Regardless, he welcomed her with a kiss and warm hug. He smelled amazing and was, to be honest, better looking and more muscular than his father, but no matter. She shoved a needle with some heavy downers into his arm and let him drop roughly to the floor.

Lyra's mind went red with rage when she saw the woman's memory of Draco looking up at her face, at Lyra's face, dazed and confused as he went under he spell of the heroin and the woman slashed at his arms with a knife.

Lyra took some other information from her. The location of the London house, passwords, anything else she knew about Malfoy and where he might be. Apart from her task, she didn't know what else Lucius had planned. He had told the girl that after his wife and son were dead they would have to leave the country for appearance's sake.

Lyra pulled out of her mind.

"Jesus, kid. You're not real smart, are you?" Lyra mused down at the woman in disgust.

She put her in a body bind and opened the suitcase to rummage for a revitalization potion that she had left over from the hospital. She went back over to Draco and frowned. She kept seeing the way he had looked at the fake Lyra as she had attacked him. _I wonder if after this I'll have a few minutes to cut some of her fingers off? None of the important ones, just maybe like her ring fingers or pinkies something..._ she mused, looking back at the woman.

So, Lyra was definitely losing her mind.

She knelt next to him and reopened his wounds with a wince. She started the resanguination spell which began shrinking the vast pool of blood on the floor, returning it to his body. She got what she could, but didn't bother spelling the blood from his body or hers. It was a fussy kind of magic to begin with and she didn't have time. Draco's color had returned to just a half shade lighter than his normal pale and he looked like he was just sleeping...or high as fuck.

Lyra sighed sadly into the ether and slapped her beloved across the face. Hard.

"Bitch," Draco groaned at her, fluttering his eyelashes.

"I'm so sorry, baby. It's Lyra. Real Lyra this time," she soothed, rubbing her hand on his chest.

He cracked an eye at her.

This Lyra was wearing the clothes he thought she wore in to work. This Lyra also had the right eyes but his head was so fucked from drugs that he couldn't be sure and he didn't particularly care. His trip was calling him back.

He cringed away from her.

"Draco. It's me. I have the other one. She's in ropes on the floor," she said loudly, trying to reassure him.

He opened his eyes again to study her.

"Show me your knickers," he said in a weak voice.

"Now?!" She said, confused. Maybe he had a concussion.

"Just bloody do it," he mumbled seriously.

Lyra huffed and stood. She pulled her tight pencil skirt up over her hips and let him see them. "Happy?" She asked, annoyed.

Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Green," he dropped his head back to the ground and let the high pull him down.

Lyra frowned. He'd turned them green before she left. She got it. She left her skirt up and straddled his waist. She shook him roughly. "Draco, I need you to drink this."

He grumbled.

Lyra sighed and slapped him across the face again.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, weakly raising a hand to his very red cheek.

"You have to drink this right now!" She shouted at him. _God, it was like talking to a brick wall._

He furrowed his brow and Lyra helped him lift his head. She dumped the revitalizing potion into his mouth and watched him swallow it. She stayed perched atop him for the minute or so it took the potion to set in, rubbing his cheek and whispering to him reassuringly.

Draco's blurred vision slowly focused on his witch above him. She was covered in blood. He started a moment before he recalled that it was his blood. He took a moment to recollect his memories from the drugged haze...and before.

"You hit me!" He accused her quietly, with a raised eyebrow.

"Twice," she replied plainly. "Are you alright?" She asked, smoothing her hands down his arms. "I got here and you were...I was so afraid..." she trailed off, starting to tremble. Her trained efficiency was faltering into jittery shock now that it was over.

Draco looked up at her. Her eyes were brimming with tears and he could see her pulse hammering in her throat.

"I think so," he sighed, wrapping his bloody hands around her wrists that she had braced on his chest.

She bent down and pressed her lips to his sweaty forehead. "I love you so much," she whispered, dropping a few tears on to his face.

"I love you too," he replied. "You saved my life."

She pulled back, nuzzling his nose with her own. "I'll put it on the list," she joked sadly.

Blaise arrived in the living room of Lyra's flat in muggle London and walked into the kitchen to find one of her in the foyer in ropes and another one of her straddling Draco on the kitchen floor. They were covered in blood and looked very surprised to see him there. Harry had sent him over to make sure they were coming along. The Lyra sitting on top of Draco had her skirt hiked up around her hips, putting her Slytherin green knickers on display for the room.

Blaise cocked his head to the side. "Perfect," he said, referring to her ass.

"Oh my God, Blaise. You unbelievable pervert. Turn around. What is the matter with you? You are so fucking gross..."

He laughed, turned his back to the couple, and allowed Lyra's verbal rebuke to wash over him like birdsong.

* * *

 **AD - Auror Department**

 **MLE - Office of Magical Law Enforcement**

 **Resanguination Spell - A thing I made up. Takes blood from outside the body and puts it back in. Simple as that.**


	47. Chapter 47

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday Morning**

With Blaise's help, they got Lyra's evil twin back to the Ministry. He was able to inform them that they had Scorpius, Astoria, Narcissa and Theo all safe inside the Auror Department. _Deja vu_ , Lyra thought to herself.

Shacklebolt and Harry were there when they arrived. Shacklebolt had Zabini and Rossman take 'Faux Lyra', as Blaise was calling her, down to a holding cell.

"Who is she?" Harry asked.

Lyra cast a quick Muffliato around the four of them to prevent them being overheard. She was done taking chances. "Ophira Nagini," Lyra answered. "Works at the Nagini house in London. Does a lot of weird sex with Lucius Malfoy that I will never be able to unsee," she informed him.

Lyra felt Draco bristle next to her. She took his hand. "I'm sorry, Draco. Do you want to go check on Scorpius and your mom while we talk shop?" She asked.

He nodded tightly.

"They're down that hallway, all the way at the end," Shacklebolt informed him.

"Are you going to be alright?" Draco asked.

"I'm fine. Make sure you spell the blood off your clothes before you see your mother. She'll have a fit if she sees it," Lyra replied, rubbing her bloodstained hand down his encrusted arm.

Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple before starting down the hallway.

"So what happened?" Harry asked.

"She came in not long after I left. Set it up to make it look like Draco shot up and killed himself. She pumped him full of drugs and cut his arms up to hell. Wrote a letter from me to make it look like I was leaving. Wore my own damn face when she did it," Lyra informed him, picking some blood out of her fingernails. "It was stupid, really. Like why take the trouble? She seems like a melodramatic idiot to me. Her mind reads like a shitty soap-opera," Lyra explained.

"Are...are you okay?" He asked.

"Yes," she replied flatly.

"So she's like his mistress?" He changed the subject.

"I suppose. She's also my cousin, if I have it right," she said, pinning Shacklebolt with a hard stare.

He coughed awkwardly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"I forgot. It's been an interesting couple of weeks around here, to say the least," the old wizard replied honestly.

Lyra nodded.

"What are you talking about?" Harry inquired.

"Do you know Almitra Nagini?" Lyra asked him.

Harry furrowed his brow. "I've heard of her."

"She's my birth-mother apparently," Lyra told him.

"I see," He replied cautiously.

Lyra shrugged. She was having a hard time feeling anything but rage at Lucius, love for Draco and concern for his family. It had only been a day since she learned who her mother was. Instead of being excited or interested, all she could think about was how she could potentially use it to catch Lucius and get his balls in a vice. She'd have to wait.

Harry regarded her with concern. She appeared calm, but he could feel the wheels turning and the nervous tension radiating off her skin.

"Lyra, why don't you get cleaned up," Harry suggested.

Lyra nodded vacantly. She was lost in thought.

"Scorpius has been asking for you," he added. It was true.

Lyra looked up. "Yeah. Of course. I'll go shower and change then head that way, ok?" She replied.

"Go on," he encouraged.

She walked back towards the changing rooms.

Harry looked back at Shacklebolt.

"Out with it then, Potter," he said to the dark haired wizard.

"Sir, if she gets her hands on Malfoy while she's like this, she'll kill him," he informed his boss.

"I believe you," Shacklebolt agreed.

* * *

Lyra watched numbly as Draco's blood colored the water that circled the shower drain at her feet. _How many times would that prick try and destroy his own family? How many times could he threaten the life of a little frigging kid and never be held accountable?_

She needed to do something. Draco, Scorpius, Narcissa, Astoria, even Astoria's mute oaf of a husband. They would never be safe while he lived. But it was more than that. He could hurt Ginny, Harry, their children. Her parents. Anybody. She knew his mind. Nobody was off limits. Her stomach coiled painfully at the thought.

She shut off the water and spelled herself dry. She changed into her raiding gear, because she didn't have anything else, and strapped on her tactical vest and wrist-wraps for good measure. Scorpius would think they were cool at least. She stuck her feet in her heavy black boots and braided her hair down her back. She looked at herself in the mirror and took stock of what she saw.

Black hair, natural frown, full lips, small lines of tension around her eyes. All the things she expected to see. Despite the heavyness she felt, she couldn't deny the unmistakable glow on her of a person newly and madly in love. Fuck her Auror training, fuck her legilimency, fuck her wandskills, that glow, that madness was the biggest weapon in her arsenal right now and she knew it. She had a feeling Harry knew it too. She adored him, but she had to get away from him before he could see it. Before he could stop her.

She walked back into the main area of the changing room and found Draco waiting on a bench. He looked up at her. He had the same glow. The same madness. It made him irresistible to her and it also made him dangerous as hell. She smiled and sat next to him. He cast a quick silencing spell around them so they wouldn't be overheard.

"We can't stay here, Sweetheart. It's not safe," he told her.

"I know. I need to get away from Harry," Lyra said sadly.

"I will always be happy to get you away from that wanker whenever you need. Just say the word," Draco quipped back.

Lyra pinned him with a hard glare.

"Snape's house. We should go there," Draco said.

"Why?" Lyra asked, puzzled.

"Because that's what he told me yesterday," he answered.

Lyra furrowed her brow. "What?"

"He told me that my father, since he failed, probably wasn't done with us. He said if anything happened, we could hide there, since you're the only person who can get inside," he explained.

"I don't want your family to stay here. If we go, we take them with," Lyra added tiredly.

Draco nodded in agreement. "Okay, how do we do this?"

"I essentially have to floo ahead, open it to you, your mom, Astoria, Scorpius and Nott then come back and get all of us out of here under the noses of dozens of highly trained Aurors, including Harry goddamned Potter," she mused miserably, rubbing her eyes.

"I'll help you," Draco replied.

Lyra reached a hand up to run her fingers through his white hair. "How about you talk to your family. Convince them to come with us. I'm gonna go say hi to the little one and then I'll go open up the house I guess," Lyra sighed.

Draco planted a chaste kiss on her lips and pulled her up to lead her to his family. They entered the back room holding hands and Scorpius was on her in seconds.

"Lyra! Lyra!" He raised his little arms up to her and she lifted him.

"Hey!" She said to him warmly, trying to hide the fresh onslaught of worry that crashed into her when she saw him.

"You look scary! Do you work here? Do you work with Harry Potter? Do you fight? Can we fight?" He babbled to her.

Lyra smiled. "One at a time. First, thank you. Looking scary is cool. Yes, I do work here. Yes, I work with Harry Potter. Yes, I do fight and no I will not fight with you because you will beat me and then I will feel silly," she said, answering his many questions.

He laughed and hugged her tightly around the neck as she approached Astoria and her husband.

"Hey," Lyra said warily.

"Lyra," Astoria replied, her voice thick with hesitation.

"Look. I don't think you guys should stay here," Lyra muttered to her seriously. "From an Auror's perspective, you can't escape from Azkaban without help from someone well versed in navigating the Dark Arts. I know Lucius has people from MLE in his pocket and I would not be at all surprised if he had an Auror in there too. I want you all to come with me, but you need to do as I say. No bitching and no telling anybody."

Astoria's eyes widened in shock and indignation. She pursed her lips and made to say something.

"Alright."

Lyra looked over and furrowed her brow at Theo Nott who had spoken the word forcefully, gently grabbing his wife's arm before she had the chance to argue.

"Uhhh..." Lyra said, puzzled.

"We'll go with you," he said lowly with a cool confidence.

"Theo! Absolutely not! We are safe here. Blaise is here and so is Harry Potter. I think we'll be just fine," Astoria dismissed, straining to keep her voice low.

"Blaise and Potter didn't get bloody tortured to death to save our family. Miss Black here did. Draco trusts her, I trust her. I think we should do what she says," he said to his wife.

Lyra could tell that this was going to be a slog. She looked knowingly over at Draco.

Scorpius pulled his head off Lyra's shoulder to look at her. "You got tortured to death?" He asked with wide eyes.

"Only a little bit. I'm all fixed now," she replied, feeling awkward. _I am not a parent. I do not know how to deal with this shit_ , she quipped internally.

"Is that why you used to live at the hospital?" He inquired.

"It is, but then you came to see me and I got better!" She informed him, matter-of-factly.

Scorpius smiled at her and snuggled back into her.

"While I appreciate the support, Mr. Nott, could we not with the..." she trailed off, motioning at the boy in her arms.

Lyra looked at the three of them. "It's up to you. I have work to do. I'll be back soon."

She pressed a kiss to Scorpius's head and started handing him off to Draco. "Off you get, spider monkey," she joked.

She kissed Draco quickly and left the room, giving a quick wave to Narcissa and Gold who were whispering and snuggling on the couch in the corner and had thankfully missed the entire conversation.

"Lyra dear! Where are you going?" The blonde witch called to her.

"Mum. We need to talk. Alone," Draco informed her, eyeing coolly the Scottish wizard at her side.

* * *

 **November 2008  
Spinner's End  
** **Muggle Yorkshire, England  
** **Friday**

Lyra used the password to floo into Severus's house. She was in a sitting room. She'd expected it to be dark, musty and dust covered. It was anything but. It was small, a little heavy on the green and black hues but it was warm and seemed well cared for. There were books everywhere and the whole room smelled like leather and potions. Like him.

She was about to crack a fond smile when a small scroll of parchment flew in from an adjacent room and hit her hard in the chest. "Okay, Severus. I get it. God, so pushy!" She complained aloud, opening it.

Lyra,  
The house is charmed from the outside to look vacant. Food will replenish itself in the kitchen automatically. If you aren't hiding alone, your companions may not leave and expect to return. Only you may come and go at will. Be careful and don't do anything stupid.  
Fondly,  
Severus Snape

She sighed and bent back to the fireplace to revise the passwords and open the house for her 'companions.'

The spells were complicated and the house resisted her at first. She'd seen flashes of it in his mind when they'd practiced Legilimency together and it had a strange familiarity to her that she couldn't place. Severus had grown up here with his witch mother and No-maj father. Like Draco, he hadn't been a very happy child. Where Draco was mean, Severus was sullen. His father, her grandfather, was an insecure man who lashed out at his family to feel better about his own sub-mediocrity.

After some time, she got through the long spells. She stood and took one additional look around the room. Once everything had died down, she would love to spend days poking around, provided the house would allow her to do so. Severus had probably stuck Boggarts in all of the closets to scare people away from snooping. She smirked and jumped back into the fireplace.

* * *

 **November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday**

"Lyra, where the devil have you been?" Harry accused when she emerged into the common.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I went to Westminster. My evil twin downstairs put the nice Muggle doorman at my apartment under Imperious and I wanted to make sure he was alright," she lied smoothly. She already knew Sam was fine. She'd checked as soon as Blaise had arrived.

"Right. Is he?" He asked.

Lyra nodded. "Confused and tired, but he'll be fine. So where are we with the search?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Right, well, we've people stationed at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, all the airports, Kings Cross, some of the old shipping ports and all of the residences in London. Nott's, the townhouse, Draco's flat," he began.

"Tell me we know where Julian Diamond is," she interrupted.

Harry sighed. "He didn't come in today. His secretary says he's having a lad's weekend in Wales, but her memory is fuzzy as to where," he said bitterly.

"Are we watching his house?" She asked.

"We are," he confirmed.

"Good," Lyra said absently.

"Lyra," he said nervously.

"Harry," she replied.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" He asked.

"I do not," she cautioned.

Harry was undeterred. "You walked into a gruesome bloodbath where your boyfriend was almost killed by a woman pretending to be you-"

"Yeah, I was there, thanks," she bit out sardonically. "I can't...I can't even describe it, Harry. It's too much. I'm sorry. Let's just get this douchebag back in a hole and you and I can get hammered and cry all about it, I promise."

Harry frowned. "I'm just trying to say that as someone who recently stumbled upon their friend being butchered in front of them and didn't handle it so well...I'm here if you need to have a chat," he explained.

Lyra deflated and advanced on him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.

Lyra grimaced. _I'm sorry, buddy. I hope you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do,_ she said to him in her head.

She saw Draco approaching from over her friend's shoulder.

"Lyra, can I talk to you?" Draco said.

Lyra pulled away from Harry. He squeezed her arm reassuringly before turning to head back to his office.

"Malfoy," he said in greeting as he left.

"Potter," Draco replied curtly.

Lyra rolled her eyes in annoyance. She could be out of her mind with rage, sick with worry or half dead and she would still roll her eyes at the pair of them. _Idiots._

She led Draco to an empty conference room and cast a silencing charm.

"So?" She said to him expectantly.

"We're coming," he informed her tiredly.

She sighed in relief. "Good. Any good ideas on how to get us the fuck out of here? I got about nothing," she admitted.

"I'm not sure. I found out someone in the office who's been sharing information about you with a contact," he offered plainly.

"Ummm...what? Who!" She practically yelled.

"Page boy called Colin. Works in the front. His mother has terminal dragonpox. Someone, is bribing him with the prospect of a cure if he gives them information about you," he explained.

Lyra gasped in offense. "Colin?! That bastard! That's horrible about his mom though. I had no idea," she replied. "How did you find that out?"

"I sat out there for a cuppa and read everybody," he said tiredly. "You don't have a headache potion by chance, do you Black?"

"Oh baby," she soothed, bringing her fingers up to massage his temples. "You did good work. We can use that."

Draco dropped his head onto her shoulder and she held him, running her hands up and down his back as she thought.

They stood there for a while. Lyra had formulated an idea. A despicable idea. An idea that she hated, but honestly, they were running out of time.

She sighed. "I think I have an idea. Go back with your family and I will come get you. When it's time, we'll floo Astoria with Scorpius first and then Nott. Your mom, you and I will go last.

"Why?" He asked, puzzled.

"Because you and your mom are decent wands and we're going to have to fight him," she replied.

"Fight who?" He inquired.

"Harry," she answered miserably.


	48. Chapter 48

**November 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Office of Magical Law Enforcement,** **Auror Department  
Friday**

Lyra asked Simpkins and Rossman to question Ophira Nagini about her connection to Lucius Malfoy and see if they could get any additional information out of her about his plans. _That takes care of two,_ she thought to herself.

It was approaching lunchtime, meaning that the office was clearing out. That was a good thing. She knew the lines would be long at the cafeteria, so she sent Gold out to grab food for Draco's family. _That's one more down._

Shacklebolt was at the main MLE office acting as a lead on the Azkaban break in Julian's 'absence.' _Thank god for that_ , Lyra thought to herself. Something might actually get done.

Who was left? Darwin, the ancient artifacts guy, Dinesh, the library guy, Colin and Harry. Colin was at his desk in the common, Harry was in his office, Darwin and Dinesh were on the couch drinking tea and being useless like always.

 _No time like the present_ , she thought. She walked back to where Draco was waiting with his family. Five anxious sets of eyes looked to her for guidance and instruction.

"Astoria, I'm going to take you, Nott and Scorpius up front for tea. I'm going to send Colin into Harry's office to ask him a question and then you and Scorpius will go through first. I'm going to stun the guys on the couch and then Nott, you go," she explained. "In case we get separated, know that your wardkey only works once and once you get to the destination, you cannot leave and expect to return. You will be there until Malfoy is found, but you will be safe. More safe than you can hope to be here."

The Notts nodded at her seriously. It looked like Astoria was going to vomit, but her husband was all business. That was good.

She turned to Draco and Narcissa. "I am expecting that Harry and or Colin will figure us out and try to stop us. Colin sucks. Stun him and be done with it," she began. "Harry, however, does not suck. Harry is a war beast. Do not get fancy. Use whatever you have in your repertoire that is fast and keeps your arms in close to your body. If you give Potter even a millimeter of wrist, he will snatch it and throw you across the room. Do not let him get in between you and the fireplace. That would be a mistake. He's right handed, he can translocate and he's probably got enough memory from his clerking days to close the floo gate on us if he thinks of it. I am hoping he does not. I want you two to fall back and let me take the hard hits, because I love you, because it's my job, and because I'm the only one with a vest on. Got it? Questions?"

Narcissa looked nervous. Draco looked like he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her on the ground right there.

"Okay then. Let's go. Draco, you and your mom give us about two minutes then come up front," she instructed, leading Astoria and her husband out to the common.

Scorpius was in his mother's arms looking around like this was the coolest thing he had ever seen or experienced in all of his nearly four years on earth. Possibly even better than trains. He would just have to see how it played out.

Lyra nodded politely to Darwin and Dinesh on the couch and poured a cup of tea while Astoria and her husband lingered by the fireplace.

"Colin? Would you mind running and asking Harry how he wants me and Simpkins to do the artifact reports on those obscurials Simon's team found in Cardiff? Right now, they've just got them confined to one of the blocks downstairs because nobody can get them into those temporal jar thingies you guys like to use," Lyra said, handing a cup to Nott.

Colin jumped up from his desk and made his way down the hallway without acknowledging the question.

"Will you also point out to him yet again that obscurials are creatures and shouldn't even require artifact reports?!" Lyra snarked to his back. She and Harry had been arguing about that for days.

"Well actually, Auror Black, here in Britain we consider the obscurial..." Darwin began as Nott ushered his wife and stepson into the floo.

"Stupefy!" Lyra called, hitting the old wizard on the couch between the eyes causing him to slump in his seat.

Dinesh yelped and dropped his tea on his lap which caused him to cry out in pain. Lyra hit him with a stun in the chest as Astoria and Scorpius disappeared from the fireplace.

 _Shit. That made a little more noise than I was expecting_ , Lyra winced.

Nott stepped into the floo as Draco and Narcissa appeared from the hallway.

Harry's hex emerged before he was even in view and hit her in the left shoulder with a bruiser that made her cramp all the way down to her hand. _Fuuuuuuck._

He appeared with Colin at his side. Wands at the ready. "Lyra, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Harry yelled at her, taking in the scene.

"Leaving," Lyra said plainly, stepping half in front of Draco to shield him.

Harry furrowed his brow at her and looked at his unconscious colleagues on the couch.

"Avada Kedavra!" Colin shouted, sending a green flash of light barreling towards Narcissa Malfoy's face. Draco reacted with lighting speed, banding his mother around the stomach and pitching her roughly into the fireplace.

"Confundus-" "Petrificus totalus-" Harry and Lyra fired at the young wizard simultaneously. Their spells collided in midair and fractured allowing Colin to dive behind his desk as sparks rained down on him.

Lyra heard the fireplace roar to life behind her, ushering Narcissa away. Draco started violently upending desks and tables, anything he could levitate, to shield them from Colin. Lyra felt a hex slash into her cheek and she wasn't sure if it was Harry or Colin who cast it she couldn't see either of them.

She heard Draco yell in pain as a curse hit him in the leg. She saw the tip of Colin's wand disappear behind an overturned chair. Lyra leveled her wand and obliterated the chair to dust. Colin lept up and Lyra petrified him, launching him roughly into the wall.

"Go, baby," she whispered to Draco.

"LYRA STOP!" Harry bellowed from somewhere in the room. "Look, let's get Colin downstairs and figure out what's going on. You're not thinking clearly," he tried to reason with her.

Lyra hurriedly shoved Draco back into the floo. Harry hit her with something that made it feel like the skin on the back of her neck burst into flames and she cried out. She handed Draco some floo powder and turned back to the room as he was lost in the green flames. In that moment, Gold entered from the front and dropped the food he was carrying to draw his wand. Lyra stunned him unconscious as Harry got her with a jittering hex in the throat that made her feel like she was being strangled. She didn't even know where in the room he was.

Lyra lowered her wand, and muscled through an open offensive from her powerful friend. She felt like she was made of lead as she grabbed a handful of powder and hurled her wounded body into the fireplace. He kept hitting her as she laid there for the few agonizing seconds it took to get her throat to comply with saying the password. She weakly turned her head out into the room and saw Harry barreling towards her, looking heartbroken, as she was engulfed in the flames and there was only blackness and the feeling of falling.

* * *

Harry sat on the battered, shredded couch in the common with his chin in his hand as people bustled around the room spelling up the damage from his fight with Lyra.

He was so angry. He knew. He knew she was going to make a move. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.

He felt guilty because what she needed was reassurance and support and what she got instead was a face full of hex.

 _No. She was wrong. She should have been honest. Should have included him._

 _But what if she wasn't wrong? Colin point blank tried to kill Narcissa Malfoy. Why? Simpkins was reading him to figure out what was going on in his mind. It looked like a genuine cast. Thank the gods Malfoy had pulled her aside in time._

Harry shook his head trying to parse though the morning and their five minute fight to get some kind of handle on the situation, and his feelings.

 _She was out of control. It was his duty to stop her. To make her see reason._

Her face though. Her face in the fireplace. He'd hurt her badly, he knew that. She barely fought him, it was like she didn't want to.

"Auror Potter?"

Harry warily lifted his head. "What is it, Simpkins?"

"Colin. Looks like he's been leaking information about Lyra to a source for several weeks. His mother is quite sick. End stage Dragonpox. Someone's been feeding him instructions in exchange for the promise of some treatment not accessible in England...something dark I'd wager. He got word about an hour ago that it was as good as his if he could kill Mrs. Malfoy," he explained.

Harry's heart sank. _She was right. She was right and he pommeled her bloody for it._ He sighed heavily. It was worse than it would have been too, since he had lent his wand to Carl from MLE for study and was using his mother's old wand instead. He had hit her full on with everything he had.

"Gold. Any chance of figuring out where they went?" He asked the Scotish wizard flatly.

"Don't think so. They used veiled passcodes. We've tried running them back, but they're dead ends," he admitted.

"Right," Harry replied, staring absently into the fire. He needed to find them. He needed to find her. Make sure she was alright. Make sure she was safe. Make sure she didn't become a murderer because she was afraid and he backed her into a corner.

"Simpkins, get back in there. See if there's anything else you can pull from him," Harry grumbled.

"Alright," the young wizard replied in a tight clip before heading in that direction.

Harry stood and wandered mindlessly back to his office, slamming the door behind him and slumping forlornly behind his desk.

* * *

 **November 2008  
Spinner's End  
** **Muggle Yorkshire, England  
** **Friday**

"Astoria, take Scorpius to the kitchen," Narcissa urged over the sounds of Lyra's strangled moans in the sitting room.

"Gran, why is she crying?" Scorpius whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"Theo, I need your help. Something hit her in the throat," Draco said urgently, his hands shaking as he ran them over his witch assessing her injuries.

"Finite horreo -" Narcissa directed at the witch's face.

Lyra sputtered violently and drew in a deep shuddering breath. She hyperventilated a few moments, her eyes searching wildly for threats.

"Shhh. Sweetheart, it's ok. You did it. We're all here. We're safe," Draco soothed.

She focused her eyes on him then and reached for his hands. She winced and retracted her right arm.

"My shoulder..." she stuttered. "Ddd-dislocated."

Nott stepped forward. "Hold her down," he instructed Draco.

Draco held her down at the waist and opposite shoulder.

Lyra stared shakily up at the brunette wizard who looked down at her solemnly.

"This is going to hurt," he informed her. He bent down and took her hand in his. He bent her arm at the elbow and quickly rotated it out towards him. The crunch was audible as the bone popped back into joint.

Lyra screamed. Scorpius wailed her name from an adjacent room.

Draco closed the cuts on her face, cooled the red and aggravated skin on her neck and alleviated the swelling of the stinging hexes Potter had littered across her body. _Fucking wanker_ , Draco thought.

"No way in hell that was your old wand," she mused, taking slow breaths. "Your mom, is she ok?" Lyra inquired anxiously, sitting up to look for her, then wincing from a sharp pinch in her abdominal muscles. _That one I probably did myself_ , Lyra mused, laying back down.

"I'm here, darling," the blonde witch said to her, coming into view behind Draco and running her elegant hand through Lyra's hair. A bit bruised from where my brute of a son threw me on my backside, but I'm fine," she smiled down at her, wrapping an arm around said son.

"I think you should let him off the hook for that, just this once," Lyra retorted.

"I think I might," the older witch replied, pointing an adoring smile at Draco.

"Where are we?" Theo Nott asked, looking around the room.

"Spinner's End," Narcissa replied. "This is, or was, Severus Snape's home," she explained. She looked back at Lyra. "How did you get us inside? This place has been sealed off for ten years or more. Lucius paid quite a sum to aid the efforts to have it reopened. They were never successful."

Lyra flexed her jaw, suddenly overcome with the urge to tell the truth. She felt comfortable telling Narcissa, but she didn't trust Nott, or Astoria, so she decided to deflect. "We visited his portrait the other day at Hogwarts. He heard what happened to us and offered us the wardkeys for the house in case we needed to hide," she offered.

Narcissa nodded. "It was very good of him to do so."

"Scorpius, stop. Come here!" Astoria called.

Lyra heard his little footsteps rushing over to the couch she was on. Narcissa stopped him just before he could fling himself onto her.

"Gently, sweetling. She's a little sore," the blonde witch cautioned.

Lyra looked at the boy. His face was tear-streaked, his lower lip quivering adorably. She smiled and reached out for his little hand. "Don't cry, buddy. I'm okay. Just a little banged up," she cooed. "Are you hungry? You should eat something. There's plenty in the kitchen," Lyra informed him, pulling him gently into her arms and rubbing his back.

Draco laughed.

Lyra frowned at him.

"You sound like your mother," he informed her with a smirk.

"I do not!" Lyra protested, knowing instinctively that she did.

Lyra released Scorpius to his mother who hurried him back to the kitchen for food and Nott followed.

She turned back to Narcissa. "He's my father," she said simply.

The blonde witch furrowed her brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Severus. He's my father. That's why we're here," she explained in a murmur.

"That...what?" She balked.

"Lily Snape. Nice to meet you," she said plainly to clarify, with an exhausted sigh.

Narcissa Malfoy looked less composed than Lyra had ever seen her and Lyra had just seen her literally put on her ass. Lyra laughed tiredly. "Please don't say anything," she said, motioning at the kitchen with her head.

"No, certainly not," Narcissa replied tightly.

Lyra furrowed her brow. "Does it...does it bother you?" She asked nervously.

"No, darling. Not at all. Quite the contrary," she replied gently.

* * *

 **Translocate** \- The ability to move by smoke, like Snape and the Aurors do in the movies. In my AU, it's an advanced skill that Aurors would know how to do.  
 **Obscurial** \- A young witch/wizard that is transformed into dark energy through the chronic, often forced repression of their magic.


	49. Chapter 49

**November 2008  
Spinner's End  
** **Muggle Yorkshire, England  
** **Friday**

After an hour or so of respite on the couch, Draco helped Lyra up and she weakly explored the house.

She made her way up a narrow staircase to the highest floor. She tried every door handle and all were immobile to her except one. The door opened into an oak study. Like much of the rest of the house, bookshelves covered the walls. This room had a private fireplace at one end and a large desk at the other with a portrait above it. A portrait of her father.

"Severus!" She cried, rushing forward as fast as her wary body would allow. He was sleeping in a high backed chair next to a flickering candle.

"Severus. It's Lyra. I need your help. Please," she said.

The man in the portrait slowly blinked awake. "Lyra. What's happened?"

"It's Malfoy. He's escaped. Tried to have Draco and Narcissa killed. He's going to come after me," she informed him, getting right to the point.

"Do you have any idea where he is?" Severus replied darkly.

"One," she replied. "The woman he sent to kill Draco is his mistress or something. She works at Nagini. Do you think he'd show up there?"

Severus considered the possibility. "Perhaps. It's discrete. Private," he conceded.

Lyra nodded. "I want to go. I want to find him and I want to kill him," she said in a hard rush.

Her father pierced her with his onyx eyes. "You will do nothing of the sort. Calm down," he admonished.

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" She yelled. She was losing it. "I found Draco in a pool of his own blood this morning. He would be dead right now if I hadn't been raised by a Mediwitch. You want me to let it slide? Would you have let it slide, Severus?" She fired at him. It was a low blow, but she couldn't stop. "You've been in my position. Would you have walked away from a chance to shut it down? Or would you have me wait so he can finish the job?"

"Enough. I didn't say I wouldn't help you. But I will do nothing until you stop being so emotional. I'll make this simple for you, since you seem to be without your wits today. Emotional people are stupid people and stupid people makes," he said darkly.

Lyra scowled at him.

"Does anybody know you're here?" He asked.

"No. But Harry and the Aurors, I...I took Draco and his family out of the Ministry...uh...by force," she admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Severus regarded her very seriously. "You do realize that at this point the only way you can avoid being thrown in prison yourself is to catch him," he retorted. "Be the hero," added with scorn.

"I don't want to be a hero. I want to fucking kill him," she protested.

"And now, because you weren't thinking, you probably won't get the chance," he fired back.

"What was I supposed to do? There was a plant in the Auror's office. He tried to kill Narcissa on the way out! I suppose I was just supposed to wait there brooding in the shadows like you would do until the perfect opportunity came along." She was tired of his games and his judgement.

"You will do as I tell you, or I won't help," he baited.

She clenched her jaw in frustration. "Tell me," she replied.

"Go to the house, find your mother. She will hide you. If Lucius shows, you put a portkey in his hands and you come back here until it's certain that he's been contained," he informed her.

Lyra furrowed her brow in confusion. "What portkey? To where?" She questioned.

"A portkey that I have in the cellar. To Azkaban," he replied.

"What? No! He'll just fucking escape again. No way," she argued.

"Lyra. If you kill him they'll know it was you. You'll be trapped," he appealed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if speaking to her was exhausting. Maybe it was, Lyra didn't give a damn.

Lyra furrowed her brow in despair and buried her face in her hands. "I just want him to be safe. I just want them to be safe," she said miserably.

Severus sighed. "It's not likely that he would escape a second time. And after all he's done, he'd be lucky to avoid the kiss. Isn't that better than a simple death?"

Lyra lifted her head and gave an incredulous laugh.

"I hardly see how any of this is funny," he said flatly.

"You're trying to make me feel better by pointing out that with a little plucky undercover work I can have a cloaked monster suck the soul out of my boyfriend's father. Even you have to think that's funny. Come on," she prodded.

His mouth quirked.

"Alright. I'll bite. What's the portkey?" She asked.

"Crystal goblet, on a shelf along the back wall. The one with the red stem," he said.

She cocked her head. "You have more than one illegal portkey?"

He looked bored. "Well, if you must know I have three. If you bring him the one with the yellow stem you'll send him on holiday to Estonia. Give him the blue and he...actually I have no idea where that one goes," he mused.

Lyra smiled. "Thank you."

"Be careful," he counseled.

Lyra nodded. "How can I get Almitra to see me? Is it as easy as walking in and asking for her? I don't know how any of this works," she admitted.

"Tell one of the attendants that Mr. Prince sent you and that you were instructed to convey the message _Utile Dulci_ ," he answered.

"Okay," she replied.

"Are you going to tell him," Severus inquired, raising his eyebrow.

Lyra understood that he meant Draco. She sighed. She already had to fight a dear friend today, she didn't want to have to fight him too. But she would.

"I...I don't know," she replied nervously.

"I would recommend you not, but I imagine you'll simply do what you want...like always," he droned.

Lyra rolled his eyes at him. "Thanks, Severus. Your moral support is indispensable...like always," she quipped.

He yawned. Lyra frowned. "Get some rest, old man. I'll take it from here."

* * *

Lyra came up behind Draco and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling her cheek in between his shoulder blades. He was watching Scorpius play with a globe they'd found on one of the bookshelves.

Draco covered her hands with his own.

"Find anything interesting?"

She sighed into his back. "Severus has a twin portrait upstairs," she admitted to him.

Draco tensed. "And?" He said turning to face her.

"And what? I asked him for help," she replied evasively.

Lyra felt him brush his mind against hers. She slammed her walls down and stepped away from him.

Draco widened his eyes. He hadn't felt her do anything like that since they were probably thirteen years old and she was trying to hide her feelings for him.

Lyra watched him connect all the dots. He knew.

"You're not leaving," he said roughly to her.

"Baby," she started.

"No. You cannot be serious!" He exclaimed, raising his voice slightly.

"What do you want to do? Stay here forever?" She whispered gently to him. "Make the kid stay here forever?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "Potter will catch him," he said without conviction.

"Yeah, maybe, but how do we know Harry's not looking for us instead?" She replied. She doubted it, she knew Harry. He was too good. He'd agonize about it, go back and forth, but in the end, he'd be hunting Lucius just like she was...but Draco didn't need to know that.

"Plus, I don't know if Harry knows what I know. I have no clue if he'll follow the lead with the Nagini girl or try a different angle. I didn't tell him everything." She sighed. "And to be honest, I don't know if Harry knows things I don't. It's a gamble regardless, but I will be fucking furious if I do nothing and he gets away."

"Fine. I'm coming with you," Draco said.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I can't protect you and hunt him at the same time," she explained.

"Who says I need protection?" He asked.

She smiled. "I do. I would never not protect you. It's a reflex." She leaned in to his chest. "Especially after today," she shivered.

He gripped her little waist and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"And besides, I am not about to let you loose in a brothel full of gorgeous women, some of whom may or may not be my sister," she said, pulling back to look at him.

Draco laughed.

Against her father's advice, and against her own instincts, she told him everything. The portkey, her mother, that she would prefer to kill him. Everything.

Draco listened to her pitch and, against his instincts, he agreed to let her go. To let her try. He made her promise to disguise herself and pull out at the first sign of trouble.

They ventured downstairs and retrieved the correct portkey, an antique crystal goblet with a red stem. The cellar was cavernous and packed with boxes and crates. Old wine, dried herbs, yet more books. Along the back wall where the portkey had been stored, there was an old crafting bench, with a cabinet adjacent to it that was stocked with potions.

Severus was a nearly unrivaled master of potions. Lyra knew that. He could brew things that weren't available anywhere else in the wizarding world. What she found in the cabinet was a treasure trove, and likely worth an incredible sum of money, not just because of the contents, but because of who had crafted the potions. He had everything. Felix Felicis, Amortentia, Liquid Death. He even had a homemade stabilizer for potions that would expire quickly if unused. They were cutting edge and expensive nowadays and, to think, he made one in his basement more than ten years ago.

"Merlin. Look at all that," Draco marveled. "Do you have any idea how much all of this would be worth? How much this house would be worth?"

"I was just thinking that, but no," Lyra replied. "It's his."

"It's yours, sweetheart," Draco noted.

Lyra trailed her fingers reverently over a row of the little vials in front of her. "I...I know. I think I want to keep it," she admitted.

Draco scrunched his face up in distaste.

"What?!" She exclaimed. "You don't like Yorkshire?"

"I don't like muggles," he corrected.

"You like Sam," Lyra argued.

"Fine. I like A muggle. One," he conceded.

"Baby, you'd like more if you got to know more. Maybe if we spent a little time here you could meet some," she offered absentmindedly.

"Are you staying you'd be willing to stay in England for a while? I assumed as soon as all of this blew over you'd run back to New York. Jump on a plane every few months when you needed a proper shag." His voice was a little raw when he said it.

Lyra turned to look at him seriously.

"I know you love it there. It's your home. If I could conceivably follow you there, I would. I would moan about being surrounded by Americans all day, to be sure, but I would do it for you. I just...you know that I..."

"Scorpius," Lyra filled in. "I would never advocate for you being separated from him. He's an incredible little boy and you two are incredible together," she said to him with a fond smile. "It means a lot to me to even hear you entertain the idea of becoming a New Yorker, but if I had to listen to you bitch about subway rides or the lack of french cuisine, I would probably murder you. So, it's better this way," she joked, smoothing a hand down the back of his arm and grabbing his hand. Her signature move.

Draco frowned at their intertwined hands. "What's your plan then? Will you stay?" He asked, anxiously.

Lyra sighed. "I love you and I like my little team at The Ministry, but it's not...it's not home to me. I'm really happy at MCUSA. I want to go back, at least for awhile. I have a life there. Responsibilities. An apartment. My family."

Draco nodded sadly, avoiding her gaze.

"Hey," she said, pulling him closer to her by the hand. "I have no intention of giving you up. I could start my own team of Aurors on Mars and you would still be mine. I have no plans to 'have a shag' with anybody but you. You're stuck with me, kid. Regardless of which continent I'm on."

His eyes lit up a little at her proclamation.

"Is that something you'd be willing to try?" She asked nervously.

He nodded. "I hate being away from you, but I would do it."

Lyra beamed. "We'll figure it out, baby. Plus, for the time we're apart I can get you a cell phone and teach you how to do phone sex. I think you'll like it," she said, pulling him in for a kiss.

Their kiss snowballed quickly into a mini-makeout. Lyra pulled back in a daze and turned reluctantly back to the potions cabinet. "Baby, I want nothing more than to strip you down and do you right here, but we have to send your dickbag father back to prison."

He laughed behind her and snuggled into her back. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn't thrilled with the prospect of a long-distance relationship, but hearing Lyra affirm her commitment to being with him regardless made him feel lighter...and happy.

Lyra looked down at the stabilizer that was on the bottom shelf of the bench. She bent down and flipped it open, pulling out the 3 vials inside. One was labeled in Russian, and she had no idea what it said, but the other two she knew.

"Jackpot," she said to Draco, holding up the Polyjuice for him to see.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Hi all! I just wanted to let you know that I've made some changes to this fic for the sake of the prequel I'm writing called The Rook that will be launching soon. The biggest change to The Pawn is that I've made Lyra and Draco closer in age, so that they meet when they are both 11. I've also changed it so that the last time they saw each other was when they were 16, not 17, which just makes the AU a smidge more canon compliant and plausible. Also, I want to prepare you that this fic is drawing to a close. I will be focusing on the prequel after it's done, but have a few one-shots planned about Draco and Lyra's future and am not ruling out a sequel. Thanks and happy reading!


	50. Chapter 50

**November 2008  
House of Nagini  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Friday**

Lyra walked into the grand foyer of the House of Nagini wearing another woman's face.

She flooed from Severus's house to Diagon Alley and snatched a hair off the first society witch that she saw who was similar in size and age to herself. From there, she ducked into a restroom and transformed. The witch she'd chosen had short brown hair, green eyes and an upturned nose. Narcissa, thankfully, had schlepped her charmed handbag with her to Spinner's End and provided Lyra with a thin strapped satin dress in vibrant gold that hung from her frame handsomely. It had a slit up to her thigh and left her back completely exposed.

Lyra looked at herself in the mirror. The witch she'd transformed into was attractive and unquestionably upper class. The dress had looked better on her own body, and had made Draco's eyes pop out of his head, but it looked good on her Polyjuiced form as well.

She used the fireplace at the back of a fine restaurant to floo into the foyer at Nagini. She made a fuss dusting off any hint of soot from her coat and gown and emerged from the hearth into an opulence that reminded her of Malfoy Manor. Stately marble floors with deep purple on the walls. The chandelier that hung above the center of the room was made of tinkling crystal flowers and it cast a charming mix of rainbows and soft shadows around the space.

A young woman approached her, taking her coat, and asked her if she had an appointment.

"I don't," Lyra said airly, in a high British accent, feigning nonchalance. "I've been sent by Mr. Prince for Almitra Nagini. He sends his regards and asked me to pass along a particular message."

"Which is?" The young woman asked expectantly.

"Utile dulci," Lyra twittered regally.

"Please wait here, Ma'am," the attendant replied, before turning and ascending the marble staircase behind her.

Lyra spent a few minutes marveling at the trappings of the grand entrance. She was so engrossed that she scarcely heard the floo activating behind her.

"Miss Aldridge, is it?" A voice inquired from behind her.

Lyra turned. It was Julian Diamond in all of his fat, red faced glory. He looked buzzed and even more smug than usual.

"Mr. Diamond, how do you do?" Lyra inquired politely, gripping her handbag to tamp down her rage.

"I've had quite a good day, then I suppose so many of us have," he mused wistfully.

"To be sure," Lyra responded placidly.

"Miss?" A female voice came from up the stairs.

Lyra turned.

"Ms. Nagini will see you now. This way, please."

"Will I see you inside, Mr. Diamond?" Lyra inquired.

"Maybe later, dear. I have a long appointment with my Helena," he replied with a wink.

Lyra reigned in her inclination to sneer and instead schooled her new face into a knowing smirk. "Of course. Do enjoy," she remarked, before heading up the stairs. _Poor Helena_ , she thought to herself.

"Lovely dress, Arwen," he called from behind her.

"Thank you," she replied, not looking back.

 _Arwen Aldridge? Helluva name_ , she mused to herself, shaking her head.

The attendant led her to the landing of another staircase recessed into a stone wall. It was much like the entrance to the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. This one, however, didn't move of it's own volition and Lyra followed the woman up its curves to a cozy, firelit landing. There was a door ajar at the end of the small room and the attendant motioned Lyra towards it before taking her leave and disappearing back down the staircase.

Lyra walked over and paused outside the door. She took a deep breath. _This woman is your mother, but she is also an opportunist and master manipulator. Don't let her play you._

She entered into the sitting room of a lavish apartment. For some inane reason, Lyra had been expecting an office. Considering the kind of place she was in, an apartment made more practical sense.

"Sit down. I'll be right out," a female voice called from down a corridor.

She sat down on a plush crimson colored couch and tried to normalize her heart rate. She wanted to keep her wits about her, and she knew that when push came to shove she would be able to do it, but in that moment, she was just a little girl about to meet her birth-mother for the first time.

"Hominem revelio-" a gentle voice spoke behind her.

Lyra felt the magic wash over her skin like a warm rain. She felt her hair grow, her skin tan, her nose straighten and turn down. She closed her eyes. She was nervous. Really damn nervous.

She felt a soft hand grab her by the chin, turning her face up.

"Lovely," the voice said. "Thank god you didn't get that nose."

Lyra smiled and opened her eyes.

A petite witch was standing before her. She was stunning, as Draco had said. Every inch of her invited you in, every centimeter radiated sensual warmth. Her skin was like creamy coffee, her hair like spun caramel and her eyes were the same shimmering butterscotch as Lyra's own. She was a visual feast.

Apart from Lyra's black hair and natural frown, putting the two women in the same room, there could be no doubt that they were related. They were even wearing the same color. Lyra was in gold satin and Almitra was wearing a gown made of sheer muslin that had glittering gold flowers embroidered strategically to cover her delicate areas. It was breathtaking and suggestive.

"The hair though, it suits you," the woman mused, running her hand through Lyra's raven strands before sitting down next to her on the couch.

They stared at each other for a few moments before the older witch spoke again.

"Please tell me you're not the brooding silent type like your father, that would be no fun at all," she quipped.

Lyra snorted. "I'm not...much to his great disappointment."

"He owled me, and seeing that he is most unfortunately dead, that can only mean one thing," Almitra mused. "You're in trouble."

"Yes. Someone is trying to kill me and I think they may be hiding here," she explained.

"Then why on the gods green earth would you come?" The woman replied.

"He's trying to kill people I care about as well. I came here to find him. To stop him."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Oh wonderful. Another Snape with a bloody martyr complex."

 _Ok, so she's doing the mean girl thing. Don't back down._

"You got me," she replied. "I would die for these people. If I hadn't considered it, I wouldn't be here. Mystery solved. Shall we move on, then? Or do you have a few more barbs to stick in me to assert your dominance and congratulate yourself on being the most detached person in the room?" Lyra replied, looking bored.

Almitra widened her eyes imperceptibly, then smiled. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Lyra mused.

"He's a good looking lad, I'll give you that," Almitra said, changing the subject.

"Who is?"

"Your boyfriend. He used to be a regular. I haven't seen him in probably 4-5 months," she said, with a baiting edge.

Lyra smirked. "He prefers the houses in Lisbon and Seville," Lyra replied honestly. "More diversity. Plus, he's a sucker for an accent."

The older witch quirked her shapely lips.

"Jealousy is unattractive, I'm sure you know that," Lyra said plainly, toying with a gold bangle she wore on her wrist.

Almitra laughed and clapped her hands together. "You would have done well here," she said brightly.

"I did well where I was," Lyra fired back. She winced at the harshness of her words and changed course. "I mean to say that I don't resent you or Severus for not giving me the chance to do well here. My...my parents are wonderful people. I was in excellent hands. Still am," Lyra offered with a small smile.

"Good," Almitra replied quietly. "You're an Auror?"

"Yes."

"It's dangerous."

"It has been lately, yeah. I can't imagine it rivals this place for intrigue though," Lyra said in a conciliatory tone.

"No, probably not."

"Will you help me?" Lyra asked.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Lucius Malfoy. He escaped from Azkaban today along with a handful of blood purists," she explained.

"What makes you think he's in my house?" Almitra asked surprised.

"He sent his mistress to my apartment this morning all but killed Draco. She works here. Ophira. She's in a holding cell at the ministry."

Almitra's eyes widened.

"She's safe and she's unhurt, I swear. I apprehended her myself. I mean, to be honest, I did want to cut a few of her fingers off after what she did, but you know, seeing as she's my cousin and all, I just couldn't do it."

"Ophira is a vapid idiot, and I indulge her because her mother is very dear to me," the older witch admitted. "Is your boyfriend alright?"

"He's fine. He's safe," Lyra said tiredly. "I have a hunch that Lucius is either hiding here somewhere or will come here to see that Ophira finished the job. I think he had help escaping and I know he more or less owns the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Horrible troll of a man named Julian Diamond."

Almitra rolled her pretty eyes.

"Exactly. Well, Diamond wasn't at work today, said he was in Wales for an outing but curiously just flooed into your foyer to see Helena."

"Poor girl," Almitra mused quietly.

"No kidding."

"So what's your plan?"

"It's not my plan. It's Severus's plan," Lyra explained miserably. "I have a portkey in my bag that'll send him back to Azkaban so they can lock him down and he can stand trial."

Almitra gave an unsatisfied frown.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Lyra offered.

"But why..." the older witch began.

Lyra sighed. "Because I busted Draco and his family out of the ministry in rather bombastic fashion this morning and if Malfoy ends up dead, everyone will know it was me."

"Well, what if it wasn't you?" Her mother asked.

"But it would be me."

"But what if it wasn't?" The older witch pressed.

"I don't follow," Lyra replied, her brow furrowed.

Almitra frowned. "The way I see it, you have two problems. You have Malfoy who seems to have consequences slide off him like he's made of dragon glass and you have Diamond who appears happy to get Malfoy out of whatever trouble he runs headlong into."

"That's true," Lyra conceded.

"Right, so assuming both of them show, you generate tension between the two of them and convince them to turn on one another. They're egotistical, rich men. It wouldn't be hard at all," her mother explained.

Lyra was gobsmacked.

"At a minimum you could get them to expose each other and have an embarrassing public row, but if we're having a good day, maybe they'll just kill each other and we can spare your loves and my sweet Helena from a most unpleasant future," Almitra explained calmly.

"You...you're an evil genius. I can see why Severus respects you so much. You're right up his alley," she said with a grin.

"Well, I was never quite far enough up his alley, you know," the older witch replied sadly.

"Did you love him?" Lyra blurted. "I'm sorry, that's a very invasive question. Please don't feel like you have to..."

"I did, or I think that was the closest I ever got to the feeling. I'm not sure it's an emotion I understand too well, to be honest. I believe in good business, in sensuality, in sisterhood, but the conventional 'find a mate, settle down' that was never for me. It wasn't for Severus either and I liked that about him," she replied without hesitation.

"Why did you decide to have me? I say decide because you don't strike me as the kind of woman who would have...that kind of surprise," she explained.

Almitra smiled. "You're right. Would it offend you to hear that I sort of just wanted to see what would happen? Severus was already a powerful wizard. I was in my prime and I owed the house an heir."

"Owed the house an heir?" Lyra questioned with raised eyebrows.

Her mother nodded. "It's part of the magic of the house, part of our covenant. We have to bear at least one child."

"And the women have to work here?" Lyra pressed.

"Gods no! That's barbaric, they don't have to do anything. Many do. Women and men, actually. It's not a bad way to live. There's security and love, not from clients of course, but from each other. You read our Ophira, yes? Her delusions aside, did it seem to you that she resented her upbringing?" Her mother questioned.

Lyra reflected for a moment. "No. To the contrary. She was proud."

"Precisely."

Lyra nodded. "Why didn't you keep me?"

Almitra's face fell. "Severus and I were both doing quite dangerous things around the time you were born. Severus was looking for a way out of his affiliation with the Dark Lord and I was trying to help find a way to separate the house from it's entanglement with the Vox Prima." She waved her hands. "The Vox Prima is a..."

"I know what it is," Lyra cut in with a frown. "What happened?"

"My mother, your grandmother Andina, ran the house at that time. Our shift away from the Vox made a lot of people very angry, both inside and outside of the house. When I was in my 6th or 7th month with you, we were attacked by Death Eaters, disciples of Voldemort, for our betrayal. They killed her, my mother. They almost killed you and me. Severus was there, as one of the attackers. He hid us. Brought me to his home. I gave birth there."

Almitra's eyes glassed and she suddenly seemed far away. "You were a funny little thing. Red faced and bossy. Severus wanted to keep us hidden until the war was decided. I hated it there. I was away from my family, mourning my mother and he was always gone. I loved you very much, but domestic housewifery is not something I'm well suited for. I had just about convinced Severus to let me return to the house with you when Voldemort escalated his executions. Women, children. It didn't matter. I was terrified and we agreed to send you to Scotland to be put up."

"How old was I?" Lyra asked.

"Four months, eleven days," her mother mused wistfully." Almitra shook her head as if to clear the sadness. "Anyway, I returned to London, took control of the house and it's reconstruction and Severus went around spying and fighting, gods only know..."

"Did you ever consider going back for me?" Lyra asked.

"At first I did, but after several years passed and I had every assurance from Severus that you were being well cared for by kind and stable people, I figured it might be better to let you be. Severus couldn't do it though," she laughed. "He demanded time with you. He played it off like he wanted to make sure you were well educated, but that was never it. He just wanted to see you. He would always come to me after you left Hogwarts and talk about how clever you were, how kind. He was very proud of you."

Lyra laughed. "Well, I have some bad news for you. He was lying through his teeth. We battled incessantly."

"Well of course you did, darling. Do you think he'd waste his time fighting with someone he didn't give a fig about?" The older witch inquired.

Lyra made to speak and then paused thoughtfully. "I never really thought about it that way."

Her mother smiled.

"So, I'm a little out of my depth here. I don't know how to get two douchey, entitled men to fight...hopefully to the death. I'm going to need your help and I'm going to need a disguise," Lyra explained.

"Well, I can help you with the first bit. With the second, we can do some enchantments, perhaps? Say you're a new girl?" Her mother offered.

"Actually, I was hoping to take a slightly different approach," Lyra replied.

"Go on."

"I assume Ophira has a room here. I need some of her hair," Lyra said, pulling a vial from her purse.

"Polyjuice, I should have known. Where did you get it?" Her mother inquired.

"Severus. Always prepared for anything and everything," she replied with a smile.

* * *

 **Mr. Prince -** Prince is Severus's mother's maiden name in the books  
 **Utile Dolci** \- Latin phrase meaning 'the useful with the agreeable' often used in the context that a successful communicator combines the informative with the enjoyable, turning business into pleasure

 **Author's Note** \- Thank you to Ahsilaa for the kind reviews! I'm glad you gave it a chance! Please keep them coming :) -MM


	51. Chapter 51

**November 2008  
House of Nagini  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Friday**

Two hours later, Ophira Nagini emerged into the grand parlour on the arm of her beloved aunt.

After their talk, Lyra and Almitra had ventured very carefully into Ophira's room and retrieved some of her hair and a gown for Lyra to wear that would fit in better with the rest of the ladies.

 _I am naked. I am in a room full of gross, handsy men and I am naked,_ Lyra thought to herself as she and her mother strolled around the room. Lyra did her best to bat her eyelashes and look coy but it was hard...because she was naked. Almitra had put her in a dress very similar to her own. It was sheer gauze with leaves and vines in shimmering green sewn in to barely cover her breasts, crotch and butt. She could feel the air in the room moving across her skin in places where it would normally not be moving.

Almitra buzzed in her ear, pointing out the rich and powerful who were scattered throughout the room drinking, playing cards and balancing beautiful women in their laps. Lyra pulled away from her mother to pour herself a drink at the well stocked bar. She picked a spiced whiskey and suddenly wished Draco was with her to mix it how she liked and let her sit in his lap.

She was leaning on the cherry wood bar, exchanging useless pleasantries with some rich solicitor from Southampton when she felt a cool hand caress down in between her shoulder blades and give her ass a squeeze. She tensed her body in preparation to swing around and punch her grabby friend in the face but then remembered where she was and what she was doing. She swallowed the bile in her throat and leaned into the touch.

"That's not free, you know," she said in her best approximation of Ophira's voice.

"I think you've gotten quite enough out of me already, don't you?" Came Lucius's silky voice close to her ear. His hand wrapped around to her front and caressed her very lower abdomen through the thin fabric of her dress.

She froze, but then gasped and turned, throwing herself into his arms. "I was hoping you'd come!" She said to him sweetly. It wasn't a lie. She was hoping he'd show up...the prick.

"Settle down, woman," he said annoyed, disengaging her arms from around his neck. Lyra was grateful. He smelled like Draco, but colder. Wrong. She didn't like it one bit.

"You look so tired," she cooed, ghosting a hand along his stubbled jaw. Lyra knew that he had escaped from the pre-trial quarters at Azkaban and supposedly they weren't as terrible as those for convicts, but she couldn't imagine that they were anything to get excited about. He looked unpolished and wary, but not wary enough to satisfy her for all he had done.

"Yes, well clearly I've had a trying few weeks," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's go to your room, I don't want to be seen in here until more important people arrive," he said with a sneer at the man behind her.

Lyra took his arm and they started making their way out of the parlour. She shot a panicked glance at Almitra and reached out to her mind.

 _Make him angry about Julian. I'll work on the other side._

Lyra turned her head back and led Lucius out to Ophira's room. It was a tacky, frilly little space full of unicorns and ruffles, heavily perfumed in saccharine scents like peach and honeysuckle. If Lyra was thirteen, she would have thought it was awesome.

There was champagne chilling in a bucket on Ophira's white vanity and Lyra busied herself pouring two glasses, praying that the old pig wouldn't touch her again. She had to move fast, not only because she'd rather peel the skin from her face that have any more contact with him, but also because she only had about 40 minutes left with the polyjuice.

"How did everything go this morning?" He asked, taking the flute she offered him.

"As expected," she said in a blase tone.

"How did you do it then?" He pressed, feigning disinterest.

"I used disguised myself as the girl and went to their flat. He was alone, I shot him full of enough heroin to fall a giant and bled his wrists. Left a note from her saying that she was going back to New York," she said, her voice thin and dead.

"You sound...upset," he noted, with a raised eyebrow.

Lyra allowed the tears to well up in her eyes. "I think I was just unprepared for all the blood and how...how much he looked like you. It was like doing those things to you," she lied brilliantly.

Lucius clicked his tongue in a patronizing gesture of sympathy. He lifted his hand not occupied by a champagne glass and reached out to trace one of her nipples over the embroidered ivy of her dress. Lyra shuddered and hid her disgust by humming and tossing her head back.

"He is nothing like me," he said coldly.

 _Well, you're right about that, thank god_ , she said to herself. The thought allowed her to give him a genuine smile.

"What's your plan for her?" She asked innocently.

He licked his lips as he toyed with her breast. "Have one of my men in The States kill her parents. Let her run home and wallow in it for a while then throw her in a cage somewhere and let her starve to death covered in her own filth. She's not worth wasting any magic on," he said in a bored tone as he gave her nipple a little twist.

She let her smile drop. Her face cracked and he saw it.

"What's the matter with you?" He asked, raising his eyebrows in suspicion.

 _Lock it up, Black_. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"You're still in this with me, aren't you? I mean you did just commit murder today. I would hate to think that you're getting cold feet now. There's no telling what they would do to you if you were caught," he informed her darkly.

"No, it's not that..." she began, then schooled her face to light up, as if remembering something important. She wanted to distract him from her mistake and get him back on task. "Oh Lucius, I meant to tell you earlier, about Julian Diamond..." she began.

"What about that fat sack of marbles, my pet?" He questioned softly, moving in closer to her and pressing his growing erection into her barely clothed hip.

 _Oh fuck no. No no no no no no no,_ she screamed internally.

"He's here. He's with Helena," she said turning her head to the side to hide her pinched expression from him.

He froze. "What?! He was to be at the Ministry, muddling the investigation into the break-out. What the devil is he doing here?" He railed, digging his fingers painfully into her hip.

Lyra winced. "I have no idea, but I saw him when he arrived and he seemed insufferably smug, and already quite drunk."

Lucius made a dissatisfied noise, released her and started pacing around the room in agitation. "I think that pudgy old rat has outlived his usefulness, don't you?"

Lyra smirked. "I think that ship sailed ages ago," she said snobbily, earning her a hard snort from the blonde across from her. She slinked up to him and started fiddling idly with the buttons on his waistcoat. She put on her best pout, made her eyes smolder and pinned him with the sexiest look she could muster. "I think if you hexed him to ruins, you'd not only save yourself a lot of trouble, but you'd earn Helena's gratitude as well. She's a very pious little thing, absolutely effluent with affection for those who save her from fat, red-faced trolls," she purred to him, pulling him in by his lapels and bringing her mouth to his ear. "And I feel in a sharing mood tonight." She let her breath tickle behind his ear.

He chuckled and brought his hands to her waist. "You depraved little thing. It's noble of you to come so gallantly to the aid of a sister."

She pulled back and gave him a sinister look. "Well, you don't know yet how good she is with that mouth of hers. I assure you, my motives are entirely selfish."

He pulled her into his body and pressed a bruising and aggressive kiss to her mouth. "There's my girl," he said, letting her go and making for the door.

They reentered the hallway to head up front to Helena's room when they saw the back of a half dressed Julian heading towards the main staircase.

"Julian, old man!" Lucius called, causing the fat wizard to pause in his tracks.

"Lucius! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Diamond said thinly, eyes darting for an escape route.

"Come! Have a drink with us! You must be dead tired after work," He said innocently.

"Oh, I've a lads weekend in Wales to get to in the morning. Must be on my way. Next time, Lucius. Truly," the fat wizard replied.

"Is that Julian! When did you arrive!?" Almitra's pretty voice rang out from the opposite side of the hallway that Lyra and Lucius were on.

"Almitra, beautiful as always. I was actually just leaving..." Julian began.

"What nonsense! You must stay, I insist. Come into the parlour. Indira is about to sing," she said sweetly, taking Julian by the arm and guiding him inside the large room that was now full of noise.

"Ophira! Bring Mr. Malfoy, I have his favorite brandy," she called to them.

Lyra smiled and took Lucius by the arm. _The portkey. Just in case they don't get it done_ , she thought. She paused. "Darling, go in. I have something in my room that I think might make this a bit more fun for us," she said with a devilish glare.

"And what is that, little dove?" He asked.

"Cursed chalice from one of my mother's friends in Florence. Makes anyone who drinks from it piss themselves in rather spectacular fashion," she told him with a petty smirk.

Lucius laughed. It was a gurgling, ugly sound. "Go. Hurry back," he commanded.

Lyra rushed back to Ophira's room. She had staged the portkey on a shelf of unicorn figurines the girl kept in her small sitting area. She pulled her wand from the holster in the glimmering gold garter around her thigh, courtesy of Almitra, and spelled a barrier over her hand so she wouldn't inadvertently portkey herself to Azkaban.

She reached up for the goblet and registered the sound of the door shutting behind her.

She spun around quickly, wand at the ready, just in time to see Harry shed his invisibility cloak.

"Lyra," he said sadly, raising his wand.

"Harry," she replied coldly, in her own voice.

"Don't do this. Don't kill him. We have him. Let's catch him. Together," he encouraged gently.

Lyra heard shouting from the direction of the parlour. _Damn. That escalated quickly._ She smiled.

"Don't kill him, Lyra. You're no executioner."

"By the sound of it, I'm not going to have to do a damn thing, Harry. Bored, rich men with limitless egos and axes to grind? Sounds like a good day for a duel," she said cruelly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "This is what you wanted? You're going to let them kill each other? It makes you complicit!" He argued as a loud boom sounded from down the hall. "Would Severus or Draco want you to become a killer? Would they be proud of you?" He fired.

"Severus and Draco want me to stay alive. Draco wants his mother and his son to stay alive. I don't want Lucius and his fucking cronies coming after me and the people I love forever! I don't want him coming after you, and Ginny and my parents..." her voice broke.

"I know. I know. I was here before. I heard what he said. I don't want that either, but we can do this the right way," he said softly.

Lyra shook her head and let some tears fall down Ophira's pretty face.

Harry heard screams and more explosions from elsewhere in the house. They needed to move.

"Lyra, what about me? I hate his bleeding guts. I've imagined his death more than once and I don't want you to do this. You let him die like this and you tie his name to yours forever. You are so much better than he is, you deserve to put him away and forget him. Don't let this happen. This isn't you," he pleaded.

"No."

"No what?"

"He needs to die," Lyra said flatly.

Harry froze. "Fine. I'll do it. No bullshit. No games. He should know what he's really dying for," he said resolutely.

Lyra paled. "No. Not you," she answered, her facade starting to crumble.

"I would do it for you," he admitted.

"I know," she replied.

She looked at the goblet in her hand and sighed. "It's a portkey. Severus gave it to me. It'll send him to Azkaban."

"Let's do it," Harry said.

Another loud boom came from the direction of the parlour.

Lyra flexed her jaw in agitation and looked seriously at her friend. She nodded stiffly at him and then bolted out the door with Harry on her heels.

The two wizards were hexing each other on the grand staircase, shouting the other's sins and secrets for the whole house to hear. Lyra shoved Harry back, so Malfoy wouldn't notice him.

"Incarcerus!" she yelled, wrapping Julian in thick ropes, sending him to the ground.

She walked over to Lucius's side and they sneered down at the fat man on the ground.

"You're going to let your little whore fight your fights for you Lucius?! Typical. Did he tell you that he has plans for you too, poppet? More dead at the bottom of the channel than chalet in the Alps," Diamond baited.

"Honestly. I leave you alone for five minutes and look at you," Lyra quipped at Lucius, in Ophira's high voice.

He inclined his head towards her. "Lovely as you are, my treasure, I think I should be leaving now," he said, eyes darting nervously for signs of the many people who had seen the argument unfold. He could hardly kill them all. He'd have to run now. Tonight. _Fuck the girl. The dementors could have her,_ he thought.

"I couldn't agree more. You really should be going," she remarked calmly. "Harry, would you get Mr. Malfoy his jacket?" Lyra called out clearly in her own voice as Harry appeared behind her. "Here, asshole. Hold this for me," she said and shoved the portkey into Malfoy's chest, stepping away. His eyes widened in realization for just a second before the portkey took him and he was gone.

Harry came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Nice work, Black."

Lyra gave an unsatisfied huff. She wanted to wriggle away from his hand, partially because she was mad at him for upsetting her plans and partially because she felt guilty about said plans to begin with. She could go with silence, she could go with sulking or she could harden herself for the long night ahead and try to be cool. She turned to him warily and sighed. "Thanks, man. Hey...I know what comes next, but do you mind if I go home first, to tell Draco and...get pants?" she said motioning at her barely there outfit.

Harry frowned. "If you run..." he began.

"I won't. And, anyway, you'd catch me if I did," Lyra said tiredly.

Harry nodded and walked over to Julian, to prepare him for transport back to the ministry.

Lyra went off in search of Almitra to explain herself and apologize profusely for any damage done to her house. Her mother informed her that the house had seen much worse and reassured her that it wasn't all for nothing, as Lucius and Julian both confessed to a number of unsavory dealings in the presence of several very opportunistic people. She told Lyra to keep the gauze gown she was wearing and helped transform her back into herself.

Lyra clasped the woman in a brief but tight hug before heading back to Spinner's End.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Hi all! I'm sorry if you're not getting notified of my updates. I've been having some issues with uploading to FF. I've sent emails to their support staff, but haven't heard back yet. It's affected the last 2 chapters. So here we are, Chapter 51. I added a note to Ch 50 with some definitions for clarification. Happy reading! -MM


	52. Chapter 52

**November 2008  
Spinner's End  
** **Muggle Yorkshire, England  
** **Saturday**

Everybody was sleeping when she got back. Astoria had taken the sofa while Nott crashed on the floor close to her. Narcissa was asleep in an armchair, holding her chin aloft with an elegant hand. Draco was on the floor, his back braced against a bookshelf. Scorpius was snuggled into his chest, breathing softly under his father's chin. Lyra beamed. They were so cute.

She walked over and knelt next to them, ensuring her jacket was buttoned around her so Scorpius wouldn't see her translucent dress if, by some chance, he woke up. She ran her fingers gently through Draco's white hair. He blinked his eyes open and focused on her.

He leaned into her touch. "How'd it go?" He questioned.

"More or less according to plan," she replied.

"My father?"

"Azkaban, so far as we know," she answered. "I need to talk to you."

He nodded and motioned for her to take Scorpius. She picked him up gently and laid him on the couch, next to his mother who instinctively wrapped him in her arms. Lyra smiled.

She led Draco downstairs and had him read her properly. She showed him everything. Meeting her mother, the change in plans to try and get the two men to destroy each other, the way his father had touched her, Lucius's plan to kill her and her parents, Harry's intervention, Julian's capture, Lyra giving Malfoy the portkey and the aftermath. Everything, he saw it all.

He pulled out of her mind and frowned at her. She was panting from the exertion. He had a lot of conflicting feelings about things that he wanted to discuss, but first he needed to displace every memory he'd seen of his horrible father touching her. He raised his hands and started undoing the buttons of her jacket, running his fingers over the sheer muslin covering her belly.

"Staking your claim there, Frog?" Lyra said with a smirk. She pressed into his touch and let her jacket fall from her body to the floor. She didn't like what she was wearing in any context outside of being alone with Draco and seeing him look at her like he was. It was intense as hell and she was so into it.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and grabbed her bottom with both hands. Lyra could feel the warmth from his palms easily through the barely there barrier of her gown.

"You're mine," he whispered into her ear as he drew her hips to his.

She melted into him and let him back her up to an old table. He threw her onto it roughly and ran his pale hands up her legs, moving her gown out of the way.

He trailed his fingers up her inner thigh to her sex and found her already silky with arousal. Lyra shrugged coyly at him and leaned back to let him play. This little game was one of their favorites back at Hogwarts. He would drive her crazy with his hand under her skirt on some desk or workbench and she would do her best not to get them caught. She actually had to maintain a running lie there that she was deathly afraid of spiders to throw the librarian off their trail after she had attracted attention by crying out shamelessly from the Arithmancy section...multiple times. Draco thought it was hilarious.

"I wonder if I'm afraid of spiders today," she whispered to him, stealing his thoughts.

"Mmm, I hope so," he replied, rotating his fingers inside her and making her gasp. He let his eyes roam over her again. He loathed the idea of her parading around a room of other men like this, but gods if she didn't look like gilded perfection. The sheer gown she wore was a style he'd only ever seen on Nagini women. Women who were built and bred to reduce rich men to love sick lapdogs. She would have fit right in with the ladies there. She looked like one and, not that he would necessarily tell her, but she fucked like one. It made a great deal more sense now that he knew she technically was one. She didn't need it, Draco already thought she was sexy as hell, but he'd be a liar if he said seeing her like this didn't turn him on.

Lyra canted her hips up suddenly to get him to go deeper. She moaned quietly, lost in her pleasure. Draco narrowed his eyes and got to work. In the end, Lyra won the round, but only by biting her lip and cutting a few half-moon marks into Draco's arm with her nails. His mother, his ex and the kid were all upstairs. The stakes were pretty high.

"Better luck next time," she panted softly as he pressed gentle kisses to her sweat soaked temple.

He laughed softly, kissing along her jaw. "I love you, sweetheart."

She squeezed tighter around his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. "I love you, baby," she said with a satisfied sigh.

"You have to go back?" He asked glumly.

"Yeah, I do," she replied, burying her face in his neck. She was not looking forward to that at all.

"Do you really think Potter would have killed him for you?" He asked.

Lyra frowned and pulled back to look at him. "I do," she replied honestly.

"Does...is he in love with you?" He asked seriously.

Lyra bit both of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. He looked so grumpy. It was adorable. "In all of that, that's what has you up in arms? That Harry Potter has it for me so bad, he'd off your dad?"

Draco said nothing...which meant yes. Lyra sighed and smoothed her hand down the back of his neck. "I know Harry would have killed a guy for me because he already killed a guy for me," she explained. "You."

"Bullocks. He didn't have the stones, remember? He blacked out," he countered, referring to Harry's testimony at the inquiry.

"Bullshit, Draco. He didn't have the wand. That's it. I read him before his hearing. I assumed what you just did, that he's too good a guy. That the wand played a part and Harry's good nature did too, but I was wrong. I watched him cast that curse from the inside of his own mind and he nailed it. He wanted you to die. The only reason you didn't was because of your old wand." she explained.

Draco was stunned. "That wanker!"

Lyra rolled her eyes. "You know what he was thinking when he was running through the hallway, listening to me scream? Listening to you kill me?"

Draco paled a shade and shook his head.

"He was thinking _'Not again. Not his daughter. Not another one._ ' He was not thinking ' _I wanna bang this girl,_ ' or ' _I wanna leave my beautiful wife and children for this tart I just met._ ' He wanted to kill you to protect his friend. To repay what he viewed as a debt to Severus. To protect himself from losing yet another person. It's kind of a thing with him now after losing his parents, his mentors and about half of his classmates...as I'm sure you can relate," she said gently. "He's not in love with me, Draco. And even if he was, which he most certainly is not, it wouldn't matter."

"And why the devil not!?" Draco exclaimed petulantly.

"Because I am in love with you, you knob," she informed him, punctuating her words with feather light kisses on his face.

Draco's stomach warmed at her admission. He pulled back and was toying with a piece of her hair when a thought occurred to him. "So then you lied for him at the board?" Draco accused.

"I didn't lie. Harry doesn't know what to make of the event, it was deeply subconscious and without Legilimency or hypnosis he probably wouldn't remember. I just declined to mention that I knew about it. Plus, I hinged my entire defense on the fact that his intentions didn't matter. And I won, as you may recall," she chirped proudly.

"You little snake," he quipped, impressed.

"Are you mad?" She asked.

He signed. "No. I just..."

She squinted her eyes at him. "You want to know if I'd lie to an inquiry board for you?"

"It sounds stupid when you put it that way," he admitted, but she was essentially right.

"It's not stupid, baby," she reassured him, rubbing his arm. Insecure Draco was definitely something new for her. She wanted to tread lightly.

"How far would I go for you? Definitely too far," she said with a smile, catching his earlobe between her teeth. She leaned back and looked at him. "I lie for you all the time! I pretend it's not annoying that you wear almost exclusively black. I allow you to believe that Harry is a total wanker..."

"Potter is a total wanker! He all but killed me!" He defended.

Lyra gave him an incredulous look.

"Ok, fine. But those examples are of you lying to me, not lying for me," he pressed.

Lyra scoffed. Now she was annoyed. _Was the kid blind?_ "I dunno, I don't lie for you because I've never really been in a position where I've had to! Is that really your metric of love? Lying?! I mean I did jet over here when I heard you were in danger. I did come within an inch of my life to protect Scorpius and and just had your disgusting father literally pawing at my boobs so I could send him back to Azkaban to keep our family safe!"

She took a breath and started going on, noting how Harry had beat her ass that very morning but Draco silenced her with a frantic kiss. She tipped her head back and gave in to the assault, fumbling blindly with his belt. After a bit of a struggle, she got him free and guided him into her body.

"You're absolutely right. All good points," Draco said by way of apology, his voice husky with lust.

Lyra sighed, enjoying the pressure of his entry. "I know I'm right. Tell me all about it later," she retorted.

He groaned and happily gave her what she wanted. Before she came, she put his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't wake the house. Her slick core quivered around him as she wailed breathily into his palm. After she finished, she rested her head on his shoulder, dazed. He snapped his hips against hers quickly, bringing himself to the edge, but slowed down to draw out his orgasm. He shifted to stimulate his tip on the narrow cuff of smooth muscle at her entrance as he came making it tight and so intense. His fingers twisted into the gauze of her dress and shredded the delicate garment.

He was absolutely feral, growling wildly into her hair as he used her body to make himself go insane. Lyra loved every second of it. She heard the fabric of the gown rip and squeaked joyfully as his fingers gripped onto her hips. After he finished and pulled out, she could feel his warm come dripping out of her deliciously, further ruining Ophira's dress. She pulled his head to her chest to hold him and hid her devious smirk in his hair.

Draco's thoughts were fuzzy for the first few minutes after his climax, but once his thoughts began to recrystallize, he felt silly for questioning Lyra about Harry. Jealousy was unattractive, he knew that, but he just couldn't help it. This witch had the fighting skills of an Auror, the intellect of his mother, the heart of a lion and the body of a siren. All of that and she loved him. Him, of all people. After everything he had done. If he wasn't the luckiest sod on the face of the earth... _Deserve her_ , he thought to himself as he squeezed her closer.

* * *

"I want to come with you," Draco said behind her as she was finishing her braid.

Lyra started, but turned to face him as she fussed with one of her wristwraps. "Good, I'm going to need you," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm going with you," Nott said from the back of the kitchen, causing Lyra to jump.

"Jesus, dude! Don't do that! My wand hand is twitchy as fuck and I have had the worst day!" She admonished the huge wizard.

He smirked down at her fondly.

"Why?" Draco questioned him, skeptically.

"Just in case little-bit here finds herself in more trouble. I can help. I make people nervous," he replied flatly.

 _Now actually, that's not a bad idea_ , she thought. Lyra smiled at him. "You're a man of few words, Nott. But they're all words I like."

She turned back to Draco. "I want to floo in through the Atrium."

"What?! Why?" He protested.

"Press," she stated simply.

"Press? For what?" Nott asked.

"For...visibility. To sell the story," she clarified, channeling Narcissa.

"Why would that matter?" Draco questioned.

Lyra hesitated and looked nervously back and forth between the two men. "Well...because it is very likely that they are going to arrest me as soon as I walk through the door."

* * *

 **October 2008**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Ministry of Magic of Great Britain**  
 **Saturday Morning**

After what felt to her like a decade of arguing about nothing, Lyra and Draco emerged into the atrium together, with Nott on their heels. The wizards shifted to flank her as they entered the large space that was laden with press, Aurors and MLE personnel. She was nervous, but not surprised.

"No wands," she muttered to her boyfriend and her bouncer. Draco was about to open his mouth to argue when Shacklebolt emerged from the throng with Harry, Blaise, Simpkins and a handful of MLE folks she didn't recognize. Cameras were going off everywhere. _Well, at least that worked out,_ she thought.

Shacklebolt frowned and stepped forward.

Lyra raised her hands in surrender. Draco made to step in front of her but she stopped him.

"Malfoy and Nott just came to see that I'm taken in properly. They had no part in my decisions or actions. My wand is on my left hip and I have no intention of resisting," She said clearly.

Lyra looked at Harry, who looked ill.

"Lyra Black, you are under arrest for unlawfully attacking your fellow Aurors, for the abduction of victims and witnesses under Ministry protection and for the use of an illegal, unregistered portkey," Shacklebolt called out to her in a miserable monotone.

"You're gonna charge me for the portkey too? That is cold, man," she said in genuine surprise. The other stuff she was kind of expecting. "Did it work? Did we get him?" She asked.

Shacklebolt said nothing.

"Lucius Malfoy. Is he back in prison where he belongs? It's a simple question!" She yelled.

She looked at Harry and registered his nearly imperceptible nod. "Oh thank god," she whispered, in genuine relief.

Shacklebolt nodded his chin in her direction and Blaise, Simpkins and one of the MLE guys, who was every bit as huge as Nott, came towards them.

"Fellas, you're going to let them have me and you're going to say nothing. Draco, when you get back to your flat, owl your mom at Spinner's End and tell them that we got him and they can go home. Put security on them in case your dad had a Plan B," she whispered urgently. She studied Draco's horrified face for a moment and sweetly ran her hand down his cheek. She leaned in and gave him a kiss, resulting in a veritable lightning storm of flashbulbs capturing the moment. "I love you," she informed him.

"I love you," he replied softly.

She stepped forward and extended her hands.

"Blaise. Simpkins. Tall guy," she said, acknowledging her jailers. "I want Simpkins to do my ropes. He's the least creepy of the three of you," she informed them.

Simpkins raised his wand and shackled her wrists in ropes. The other two wizards advanced on her, grabbing her by the arms.

"Hey, Zabini," Draco called to his old friend.

He dropped Lyra's arm and turned just in time to catch Draco's fist with his face. Nott pulled Draco back, as Blaise fell to the floor with a split lip. Harry was there in a second to pull Zabini up.

"Nott get him out of here!" Harry yelled, holding Blaise back from offering a return punch.

Lyra turned back and locked eyes with Draco. He got the message and jumped into her thoughts.

 _Holy fucking shit, baby. I am so scared right now. I love you I love you I love you. Lawyer please! I love you._

He nodded at her and let Nott pull him away to the fireplaces. Simpkins took her other arm and started leading her through the crowd of reporters. She threw her front back up so no body would know she was petrified and started chuckling to herself.

"What could possibly be funny, Black? You're being arrested," Simpkins said sadly.

"Come on, Simpkins! Draco punched Zabini in the face. It was awesome!" She chirped, flexing her hands in her ropes.

"Oy! I can hear you!" Zabini protested.

She laughed full on.

"Ohmigod, Blaise. Right in the face," she confirmed in between snorts.

Despite the gravity of the situation, that got laughs from almost everybody in the immediate vicinity. Harry, Blaise, Simpkins, even tall MLE stooge thought it was funny. _Well...at least I have that going for me_ , Lyra thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- So sorry if this seems like a rush job. I'm pushing to get to the next few chapters. Thanks for the awesome review, Ahsilaa. The next chapter and author's note will answer your questions in more detail. I will try to get them out ASAP. Happy reading, all! -MM


	53. Chapter 53

**Azkaban Prison**  
 **God Knows Where**  
 **God knows When**

Lyra rested on her side in her tiny cell. She was cold and she was hungry. She was also, for the moment, a small black bear. No, you read that correctly.

Lyra had been held at The Ministry for nearly a month after her arrest. It seemed a waste of time to cart her off to Azkaban immediately when she was a testifying witness in the trials for Lucius, Julian, Ophira and Colin. She didn't give a damn about Colin or Ophira, but was pleased to hear that Lucius and Julian were both convicted of their most serious crimes. Lucius would be spending the rest of his life in prison and Julian wouldn't see the light of day again for quite some time.

After the dust settled, Lyra herself stood trial. Darwin, Dinesh and Gold declined to press charges against her personally, but one of the head solicitors for MLE elected to pursue charges on their behalf, in addition to the charges of abduction and use of an illegal portkey. In a decision that shocked almost everybody outside of the establishment, Lyra was convicted on the assault and abduction charges and sentenced to prison time, due to the 'unfortunate involvement of a young child,' per the court.

Draco, Harry and all of her friends fought vigorously to spare her from ever seeing the inside of the fortress, but the moneyed elite within the ministry, most of whom hated Lucius Malfoy, nevertheless made it a point to see her punished. She had struck their kind in a place where they thought they were safe and had manipulated two powerful men into incriminating themselves, which was something that could not recur. She was also an easy target, in that she was a foreigner. Her original sentence had been two years but the shrewd interventions employed on her behalf had whittled it down to five months.

Five months. She wasn't sure how much time had already passed. She didn't remember time very well anymore. Nap time. She remembered nap time. She remembered to hide in the corner and think of dead puppies when the dementors neared her. She remembered snack time. Hard bread and dirty water that made her stomach cramp when she was in human form.

To clarify, Lyra was not an animagus, she was just lucky and had a smart boyfriend. The last time she saw Draco before they took her away, he put a leather cord bracelet in her hand and told her to put it on when she was feeling low. Well, she'd started feeling low about as soon as they dragged her through the damn doors.

The first time she put on the trinket and unexpectedly turned into a bear, she was quite confused. She remembered thinking, _Okay, baby. Thanks for the...bear._ She realized shortly thereafter that the dementors tended to leave her alone when she was a bear. Her emotions were simple. There were no highs and lows, just simple acceptance of her bear fate.

She had no words to adequately describe the horrors of Azkaban Prison. She spent her first days there sobbing on the floor of her cell, the dementors showing her an endless retinue of images of Draco's lifeless eyes, her niece Porrima impaled on a spear, her mother Marla's sweet face being pecked at by crows, Harry's bloated body washed up on the shores of the Thames. She couldn't believe this kind of torture was permitted in an otherwise civil society. She'd heard it was terrible, but she truly had no idea. People, even bad people, should never be treated this way. Not even Lucius Malfoy should be treated this way. It was a pox on the face of the entire British wizarding world. A forgotten cesspool of all of their hidden sins.

She knew, provided she didn't die, that her time here would eventually come to an end and she would be returned to New York. She didn't know what kind of person she would be when that happened. She was being broken down each day. Her body starved, her spirit crushed. She was afraid that she wouldn't know how to function any more when she left and that made her feel so profoundly sad and alone.

Lyra had been in her bear form for at least the last two weeks. She spent most of her time asleep, to circumvent the gnawing hunger in her belly. The rest of her time she spent lying on her side thinking about food or pacing her cell waiting for food which came every few days, by her estimation.

Lyra heard a noise from outside her cell and rotated her round ears in that direction. She knew the formula, if it sounded swishy it was a dementor and she would go hide in the corner. If it sounded clunky it was a person who was maybe going to give her some food and she would go wait by the door. She slowly lumbered to her feet in anticipation. She heard the swishing whisper of a dementor's cloak and fled for the far corner of her cell as quickly as her battered body would allow.

She was confused when she then heard the clunk-clunk of human feet followed by shouting. She cocked her fuzzy ears forward. _Ok, now. You can't have a swishy sound and a clunk-clunk sound. I don't have a plan for that shit. Is it food or torture? Is it both? Can we do food first?_

She saw flashes of light underneath her door and huddled back further into the corner.

The strange noises and sounds continued for several hours and Lyra was visited by neither dementor nor food guy and she was actually starting to get pissed. Pissed in a bear sense. _Give me food, blow me up or I am going back to sleep, you disorganized bastards._

Lyra's cell door blasted open. Dark fur stood up all over her body and she readied herself to fight.

A young, dark-skinned wizard came in, holding his wand lit up in front of him. He saw her, the bear, and furrowed his brow.

Lyra growled. He didn't look like the food guy.

The wizard backed up a step and called out behind him. "Oy, Harry! He said she'd probably be a bear, yeah?"

Lyra heard a muffled shout in response and the wizard turned back to her and smiled. "Alright there, Black? It's me. It's Blaise. You look...nice?"

Lyra growled again.

Zabini smiled wider.

Harry appeared next to him in the doorway and Lyra made a happy bear noise but then winced in fear, afraid the dementors would come. Harry frowned.

"They're gone. It's okay," he informed her.

She cocked her head to the side and then looked past the two men out the door.

"It's true," Zabini confirmed.

Lyra sauntered over to Harry and sat on his feet, resting her furry head on his knees.

"She's so cute," Blaise remarked.

Lyra grumbled and swiped at him with a lazy paw. He laughed and made his way back into the hallway to rejoin the others.

"A lot's happened in the last few months," Harry explained to her. "You...you've been pardoned. I get to take you out of here," he said with a smile in his voice.

Lyra froze. She was afraid.

Harry felt her start to tremble and he sunk a hand into the fur on her back. She jumped.

"Hey, it's alright. Just take it slow. I think it'd be best to floo you straight to hospital. The press can't get in there and we can control who comes and goes," he soothed.

Lyra looked up at him.

"He's fine. Been in my office for the last two days pacing and yelling at me to pick up the pace. All but followed me into the loo to tell me to piss faster," he answered, understanding that she wanted to know what Draco was doing. "I'll send Rossman on to give him a heads up."

Lyra huffed.

"I'll be right back. Take that bracelet off and put some clothes on, yeah? I can't floo a bear into St. Mungos," Harry said fondly to her before stepping out and pulling the door shut.

Lyra looked around her cell nervously. She went back into her corner for a while and just stared down at the cord around her right paw. _You can do this, Black. Draco and Scorpius. Mom and Dad. You'll be with them soon. You can't be with them as a bear. Well...maybe you could. Mom would love you the same as a bear,_ she argued _._ She had to admit that being a bear made her feel safe and she was afraid to give up the simplicity it offered.

 _Draco couldn't kiss a bear, though. I mean...he could, but people would talk_ , she explained to herself. She signed and bent down to pull the bracelet off with her teeth. She felt the air around her shift and let the magic have her. She leaned her naked back against the cold rock of her corner and closed her eyes for a few moments. She got up slowly, her bones protesting the movement, and moved over to where her black and white striped uniform lay neglected on the ground.

She picked it up and peeked down at her emaciated frame. She looked worse than she had after Severus died. Her ribs and hips stuck out grotesquely and she was covered in grime. She smacked her parched lips and recoiled from the feeling of fuzz covering her teeth. Her hair was knotted and snarled and she smelled like a hippogriff stable. She was ashamed. She covered herself quickly with the ugly smock they'd given her and waited for Harry to come back.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Thursday**

Draco paced anxiously outside the admitting ward at the hospital.

"Draco, sit down before you have a stroke," Marla Black admonished him.

He huffed and lowered himself into the flimsy chair next to her.

"Here, eat this," she said, forcing a candy into his hand.

Draco smirked. He liked Lyra's mother. She was the only other person who was appropriately mad about how long all of this was taking. Shacklebolt had been elected minister nearly three months ago. Lyra should have been released at that very moment.

Potter had his hands full talking the two of them off a ledge and imploring them to be patient while the investigators weeded out corruption within the courts and the MLE office. There was also the small matter of securing the proper legislation to vanquish the dementors from Azkaban, and replace them with Aurors as guards.

Lyra's conviction and incarceration actually had a lot to do with swaying public and political opinion towards that end. All of the information about what she and Draco had gone through came out during the trials. The press had run wild with it and turned them into a pair of harrowing romantic heroes, whose love was being crushed by a cruel bureaucracy. Draco believed that their story played a large part in helping Shacklebolt win the election as well.

As great as all that was, Draco and Marla didn't give a damn. They wanted her back. Now. Every second that elapsed with her suffering in that place was disgusting and offensive to them both. Lyra's mother was kind, intelligent and had a empathetic way of speaking that reached right into people and made them care. She had petitioned tirelessly for her daughter's release and turned a lot of heads. Mama Bear, as Lyra had called her so many times, was truly a fitting moniker and Draco adored her for it.

He popped the candy into his mouth, having learned by this point that resistance was futile, and settled into the chair.

"What the devil is taking so long?" He questioned miserably.

"Oh, you know. Auror Potter is probably discussing the most effective and noble way to put your foot forward into the floo," Marla joked.

Draco snorted. He absolutely loved that Lyra's mother thought Potter was a wanker too. She was great before, but that was just the icing on the cake.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he agreed.

"Mom?" A thin, croaky voice came from behind them.

They turned simultaneously and saw her.

They lept to their feet and tore over to the fireplace where she was clinging weakly on to Gold's arm. She was nearly unrecognizable. Her skin was sallow and dirty, her hair a tangled mess and Draco couldn't stop staring at the unnatural way that her sternum protruded from her chest. She was wearing an ill-fitting overcoat that someone had given her over the black and white stripes of a prisoner's uniform.

Lyra looked at her mom and her boyfriend who were leaning into each other for support as they took her in. She felt her stomach coil nervously and started twisting her bracelet around her fingers, looking down.

"Thanks for the bear, baby," she whispered softly, embarrassed by the sound of her disused voice.

She had scarcely finished her sentence when she found herself wrapped tightly in their arms. She inhaled the comforting combination of Draco's sandalwood and her mother's vanilla scents and let them squeeze her too tight as she huddled into them for warmth.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**  
 **Saturday Morning**

Draco stood in front of the window of her room, with Lyra burrowed into his chest in a tight hug. He could feel her individual ribs through the thin fabric of the hospital gown covering her back.

It was about three in the morning. She had woken up terrified and couldn't fall back asleep.

Her rehabilitation was difficult to watch. She was afraid to drink water and the mediwizards had resorted to hydrating her magically, which led them to discover that she had infections in both of her kidneys. Her stomach was so shrunken that she could only tolerate a few bites of food at a time. She had nightmares, would retreat into the corner of the room when she was nervous and Draco had caught her staring sadly at her transfiguration bracelet more than once.

One of the hardest parts for him was when she sat expressionless as they cut about a foot from her hair because it was so snarled that it was beyond the help of a good brushing or even a sleeking charm. His mother had tried for hours and left the room nearly in tears when she was unable to detangle it. Her hair was still long, about down to her breasts, but he knew she loved it and he hated to see it taken from her that way.

She wasn't speaking very much to anybody but would get restless when he had to leave the room and she would always look for him when she woke from a dream. She was perpetually cold, but hated being under blankets, so he kept her in his arms as much as possible to keep her warm. He didn't mind. He would do it forever if it was what she needed, but he still hoped like hell that she would heal. That she would come back to him.

 _Two weeks_ , his mother had told him. That's how long it had taken for Lucius to start speaking regularly after he'd spent three months in Azkaban over the summer between Draco's fifth and sixth years at school. Lyra had been there for about the same amount of time and he was worried that it would be worse for her because she was a happy person, with more to lose to the dementors. However long it took, it didn't matter. He would be there.

Draco heard the door open behind him and Lyra twitched anxiously in his arms. He smoothed his hands reassuringly down her back as he saw Lyra's father approaching them in the reflection of the window.

"Hey, kiddo. It's Dad. Do you want to be a clingy little wildebeest on me for a little while, so Draco can get come coffee?" Her father asked softly.

Lyra pulled back and blinked up at him a few times. She went unquestioningly into his arms and settled into her spot on his shoulder. Alistair gathered her into him and started doing a goofy little slow dance with her while humming a tune Draco didn't recognize.

Draco nodded at him politely and made for the door, but Lyra reached out and grabbed his arm.

She pulled her face off her father's chest and looked between them. "Will you take me home?" She asked them both, in a froggy whisper.

Draco and Alistair shared a wordless conversation that Lyra missed.

"I'll take care of it," Draco replied before giving Lyra a kiss on the forehead and leaving to grab a coffee and charter a plane.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- I have a feeling that sending Lyra to prison is going to be an unpopular decision and I agonized about it, I assure you. My thought process was essentially this: What would happen in the aftermath if a cop went rogue, fought her way out of a police station and took some witnesses with her? Now, imagine also that that cop was an agent of a foreign government. There would be consequences. I know that the department was compromised, but the legal thing for Lyra to do would have been to be honest with Harry and Shacklebolt about what she planned to do and work from the inside. She didn't have to blast her way out like she did. She chose to, because she didn't know who to trust and she wanted to take matters into her own hands and that was partially because she knew the truth and partially because she was all crazy in love. In a legal sense, she went to prison for vigilantism, not because she was wrong. It ended up being worse for her for a few reasons: 1. She was a foreigner 2. She pissed off rich people and 3. She made the ministry look incompetent, specifically because she was right about the auror department and MLE being dirty. Real talk...people are petty and they don't like feeling stupid. When it happens they lash out, even when you're right. That's where my head was at. I welcome and encourage you to leave your thoughts. I really struggled with this bit, but I'm happy with what comes next and I hope you will be too. Happy reading! -MM

 **PS** \- The bit with Shacklebolt becoming Minister for Magic and removing the dementors from Azkaban for their human rights violations is canon. The stuff JKR has on Pottermore makes mention of the fact that, other than Sirius Black, the only people to escape the prison while it was under dementor control were Voldemort supporters. She writes that after the dementors were replaced with Auror guards, there hasn't been a single escape. It's an interesting read, if you're into that sort of thing.


	54. Chapter 54

**March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Wednesday**

Draco was standing in the tiny living room of Lyra's apartment. It was the size of a closet at the manor. It was much smaller than the Savoy, and he didn't think apartments came any smaller than that.

It was dark inside and he could smell the dust. Under the dust though, he could smell Lyra. Eucalyptus and rain. She was everywhere. This is where she lived. Where she slept. Where she drank her coffee before he and his father had caught her in their web and crushed her soul. Draco frowned.

Lyra wasn't with him. She was recovering at her parent's home in Brooklyn. The staff at St. Mungo's had been reluctant to discharge her, but they couldn't force her to stay against her will and her mother was a very capable mediwitch, so they gave her a bag full of potions and sent her out the door. From there, Draco got them all on a private plane and spirited them back to New York without ceremony. He told his mother and Astoria for logistical reasons and sent a terse owl notifying Shacklebolt for legal reasons, but that was it. He sought neither approval nor permission. His witch wanted to go home and he was going to take her home.

She was doing alright. She was eating more, but not enough. She liked to sleep by the fire next to Bex, Mrs. Black's insufferably annoying dog. Draco had tried for days to coax Lyra into the bed. He'd caught her napping on the hard floor a few times and it tore him apart so he gave up and levitated her mattress to lie in front of the fire. In other words he, Draco Malfoy, old of name and pure of blood, was spending his nights on a floor mattress in Brooklyn next to a mute witch and a slobbering mongrel. Interestingly, when Lyra wasn't thrashing with one of her nightmares, he actually slept pretty well.

He ran a wary hand through his hair and started opening up her apartment, spelling away the dust and stale air. While Lyra was in Azkaban, Draco had to have a Muggle lawyer come out to New York and threaten her sleazy landlord who was sending notices to her parents and trying to have her evicted. He settled the dispute and forward paid her rent for several years so that Lyra would never have to worry about not having a home of her own to come back to.

After an hour or so of his work, it looked like a semi-suitable habitat...for a house-elf. He couldn't believe how she fit all of her things inside this bloody shoebox. Nevertheless, he wanted to give her the option of coming here if she felt smothered at her parent's house. He gave the living room a final go over and hopped in the fireplace to go back to Brooklyn.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding Brooklyn, New York**  
 **Wednesday**

The house was completely quiet when Draco returned. Marla was at the hospital and Alistair had mentioned that he wanted to stop at a bookstore at some point during the day. That wouldn't have normally been a problem, but for the storm.

It had been raining in Manhattan, but it sounded like a hurricane was raging outside in Brooklyn. He heard a loud clap of thunder and started calling out for Lyra. She was probably petrified. He tore through the house and couldn't find her. He went around to all the bathrooms and found the 2nd floor bathroom door closed and locked. He panicked.

He didn't even think of his wand. He just threw his shoulder into the door and burst through, clacking his teeth together to brace against the pain.

"Lyra?" He said gently into the room, afraid of what he would find.

He heard a ruffling sound and saw two sets of black claws grip the edge of the tall bathtub in the room.

He exhaled in relief.

He walked over as she peaked her fuzzy head out at him.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" He asked.

A deafening crack of thunder sounded outside and Lyra made a distressed noise and cowered low to make herself small.

He frowned. "It's alright love," he soothed stepping into the tub and sitting down across from her.

A loud gust of wind followed and Lyra scurried forward into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her the best he could and tried to calm her down.

After about ten minutes, the storm had passed and Draco thought he was going to suffocate from her weight and the heat from her fur.

"You're drowning me a bit, love. Could we take this off?" He asked, running a finger along her transfiguration bracelet.

She made a high pitched sound and tried to extract herself from him instantly, but he pulled her back down.

"I didn't say I wanted you to get off," he clarified. "I was just wondering if..."

She looked at him and huffed. She held her paw out to him and he slipped the cord from it.

Moments later, he was sitting fully clothed in an empty bathtub, cradling his naked girlfriend...who had just been a bear.

"Better?" She asked him in a whisper, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

"Yes." He replied.

Lyra curled in on herself a bit to hide her nakedness from him. Draco wanted to tell her to stop, that he didn't mind that her hipbones stuck out in bony peaks or that the bruises over her protruding vertebrae didn't make her any less beautiful to him, but he didn't want to push her. He readjusted, pulled his jacket off and covered her with it.

"You mad?" She croaked weakly.

"I'm always mad, but not at you," he replied honestly into her hair.

"Sorry for...the bear," she mumbled, embarrassed.

Draco laughed and squeezed her in tighter. "After the war, do you know what I did to dull the pain? I drank myself stupid, caused a bloody poppy shortage in Afghanistan and took any pill that was put in front of me," he admitted with a wince. "You just sat three months in a black hole having demons eat your soul. If you need to turn into a bear to deal with it, you turn into a fucking bear, sweetheart."

Lyra furrowed her brown and shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Your idea?" Lyra asked, holding up her bracelet.

"The transfiguration was Potter's idea, actually. His godfather Sirius spent ten years in Azkaban in between the wars and apparently was able to keep himself from going totally insane by turning into a dog or something. We thought it might save you some pain," he admitted quietly. "Astoria's sister's husband knows a bloke who does object corporeal transfiguration. Pretty posh stuff. Mostly for bored socialites who want to turn into kittens without putting in the work to become animagi."

"Why a bear?" She squeaked, her voice cutting out.

He sighed. "Because your brother told me they're the most resistant to starvation."

Lyra nodded numbly.

"And it's not just any bear, thank you very much. It's Ursus americanus, to be exact," I thought you'd like that," he added.

Lyra pulled back to look at him and smiled. "I do," she confirmed.

His heart melted with her smile and he leaned in to kiss her.

She remembered this. Smiling, kissing. It felt nice. She needed to tell him something, but she forgot how for a moment, so she just kissed him deeper. Once she remembered, she pulled back slightly and whispered her message against his lips like a desperate prayer. "I Love you."

He banded his arms tightly around her waist, crushing their chests together. "I love you too, sweetheart," he replied.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding Brooklyn, New York**  
 **Friday**

Lyra improved markedly after their conversation in the bathtub. She started speaking more. Draco caught her in the kitchen once by herself just making odd little sounds to exercise her vocal cords. He thought it was adorable.

They began taking walks together in the evening. Not long ones, just little trips around her block to stretch out her legs and get fresh air in her lungs. They were on their way back home one evening when they were stopped by a stranger.

"Miss Black?" A female voice came from behind them. They turned and Draco pulled Lyra in a little closer to his body.

"That's me," Lyra said quietly.

The woman smiled. She was gorgeous. Early forties, strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. They reminded Lyra of Scorpius's eyes. She missed him something fierce.

"Miss Black. I'm Kira. Kira Nagini. I'm a friend of your mother's," the woman explained.

"It's nice to meet you," Lyra replied.

"Nice to meet you too. You look so much like her! Except for the hair, of course. Lovely," the witch chirped.

"How can we help you?" Draco asked warily, squeezing Lyra's waist.

The redhead sighed. "Easy, fella. I'm here to help. Almitra and I have something we think may be useful for you two," she countered. "Come by the house tomorrow. Passcode for the floo is _Amberley_." She handed Draco a business card, gave Lyra a peck on the cheek and bid them goodnight.

Lyra peaked at the card in Draco's hand. Three lines in elegant gold script:

 _House of Nagini_  
 _Manhattan, New York_  
 _United States of America_

"Well, I'm glad they cleared that up. I was ready to head to Peru," Lyra quipped sarcastically, gripping Draco's arm and pulling him down the lane back towards her parent's brownstone.

They made it home, spent an hour or so in the living room with her parents, and went up to her room. Lyra moved the mattress back to the actual bed and banished a very grumpy Bex back to his huge pile of fleece blankets downstairs, sending him off with many reassuring pets and ear scratches.

Draco fell asleep first and Lyra rolled on her side to watch him. He was so beautiful. He just was. Some men were handsome, some men were rustic but her wizard was beautiful. His silky blonde hair, porcelain pale skin, proud features. She could stare at him for hours transfixed by his face. The rest of his body was every bit as delightful. She popped up on an elbow and ran a palm down his chest and stomach. He was shirtless and wearing black cloth pants. She rubbed back and forth across the fine blonde hairs under his belly button and found herself wanting to touch more of him.

 _No, Lyra. He's asleep_ , she argued with herself. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the eager ache welling in between her legs. _Plus, it's been over four months. That thing would break you in half...Ohmigod._ She carded her nails through the hair just above the band of his pants.

Draco groaned and put his hand on top of hers. "Tickles," he said sleepily.

"Draco?" She asked.

"Hmm," he replied, opening his eyes to look at her.

She felt the blush light up her skin and she looked down.

"Um. Yes. Yes I would like that very much," he informed her, reading her expression.

Lyra smiled and climbed on top of him before bending forward to kiss him.

They rolled around for awhile and Draco had just gotten her out of her underwear when Bex starting whining outside their door.

Lyra laughed.

Draco scowled.

They carried on and he let her drive everything, but stopped her from lowering herself down on to his cock.

Lyra frowned. "You don't want to?" She asked sensitively, rocking her hips against his.

He ran his hands up her sides, enjoying the view of her perched above him. "Oh no. I do. Believe me, I do. It's just that if you put me inside you right now, I can promise you that I will wake the whole bloody house."

She smiled. "I see."

She dismounted him and fell to the side. Draco trailed his pale hand up her thigh and brought her to several quiet but intense orgasms with his skilled fingers. Lyra returned the favor with a slow, tight handjob that culminated in him painting her belly with his climax while he devoured her mouth wildly. Lyra thought it was fun and sweet, like when they were teenagers, rubbing up on each other until something awesome happened.

In the sticky aftermath, Lyra slept sprawled out over him in a mess of unruly black hair and bony limbs.

Draco laid awake for awhile under her weight, trailing his fingers in little patterns over the small of her back and enjoying the tidal flow of her breath against the skin of his chest. When he awoke in the morning, his witch was in the same spot. He looked bleary eyed at the bedside clock and saw that she had slept for 6 hours. No nightmares.


	55. Chapter 55

**March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Saturday Afternoon**

Lyra laid on the couch in her small apartment pretending to read a book. She had wasted her entire morning pretending to do stuff and she was sick of it. She had spoken to Almitra that morning who confirmed that she and Kira had an idea that could be helpful to them, but Draco had outright refused to let her go with him to the Nagini House in case it was a trap. Lyra would have liked to roll her eyes and accuse him of being paranoid, but she wasn't that kind of person anymore after...everything.

He'd been gone for hours and she was a nervous wreck. She was about to slip her transfiguration bracelet on to her wrist for a little 'bear time' when her floo came to life and Draco stepped out of it looking smug, and carrying takeout.

Lyra dropped her bracelet and lept off the couch. She helped him with his things and inhaled the rich smell of curry. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

"Oh my god, baby. Thank you!" She said, kissing him on the lips. "Where did you get this? Did you go to Vikrams? In Nomaj-land? Alone? Take me now, you rogue." She twittered happily setting dishes on her tiny dining table.

Draco loosened his tie and sat down across from her, grabbing his yellow curry and pushing the red out towards her, smirking nonchalantly.

"So?" Lyra said expectantly, nibbling absentmindedly on a piece of bread.

"So...what?" Draco replied, feigning innocence.

"So what was it?! What did they say? Did they offer you a job? You are quite the looker, you know," Lyra joked.

"It's a vanishing cabinet," Draco said plainly.

"It's a what now?" Lyra replied. She had no idea what the hell that was.

Draco reached into his jacket pocket on the chair behind him and pulled something out. He set it on the table in front of her. It was a train. It was Scorpius's toy train. The one that made the smoke. It was his favorite possession in the whole world.

Lyra looked at it confused and picked it up. "Does he know you have this? Draco! He's gonna be lost without it!"

Draco smiled. "He gave it to me. He says you can borrow it, but he wants you to give it back before he goes to sleep tonight."

"What?" Lyra gasped.

"I had lunch with him today. In London. He wants to see you," Draco replied. "The vanishing cabinet. You can think of it as a kind of controlled long range floo, if you like. The house here shares a set with Almitra's in London. It means we can go back and forth. No planes. No waiting."

Lyra's jaw dropped.

"It's an old, finicky sort of magic that I have some experience with. I can teach you and we can use it to go back and forth," he explained.

Lyra furrowed her brow and looked down at the train in her hand.

"Sweetheart?" Draco inquired. "Are you alright?"

Lyra nodded and tried not to cry into her lunch.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Saturday Evening**

Lyra and Draco made it to Astoria and Nott's London home just after eight, London time.

"Scorpius, maybe this is them," Astoria's voice soothed from another room.

"Scorpius," Lyra called gently

"Don't be shy, darling. She's here! Go see," Astoria encouraged.

Lyra saw a little blonde head peek out from an adjacent room and disappear again.

"Hey, kiddo! It's me. I brought you something," she said.

He took a few tentative steps out into the sitting room and looked at her shyly.

She sunk down on both knees and produced his train.

He walked over to her but didn't take it.

"I heard you missed me, spider monkey," Lyra said with a smile.

"No," he lied, looking away.

"I missed you...everyday," she said seriously to him.

He looked up at her and leaned his little head onto her shoulder.

She stood up and hugged him to her, pacing gently around the room, whispering to him.

Draco looked back and saw Astoria standing at the entrance of the room, dabbing her eyes. She had come out hard in support of Lyra after her arrest. As public opinion turned in their favor, Astoria became a sought after authority by the media and society types due to her proximity. The boost in her profile endeared Lyra to her even further and she had been absolutely thrilled when Draco asked if they could stop by.

"Where?!" Scorpius said, lifting his head off of Lyra's shoulder.

"With your dad. We can have them in a minute. I haven't seen you in like five months! I'm not done hugging you yet!" Lyra protested as he wiggled in her arms to have her put him down.

She freed him with a grumble and Scorpius ran over to Draco yelling about crumble-crusts.

Lyra looked back at Astoria and made a 'What the hell?' face that had the blonde witch in stitches.

Nott strolled in and shocked Lyra by picking her off the ground in a gripping hug.

"Draco's not feeding you?" He joked.

Draco shot a look of pure venom over at him, but Lyra laughed. "There's no food left north of the equator after your breakfast, Nott. You know this," she said pinching his stomach, which was hard as a rock, but no matter.

"There's crumble-crusts," Scorpius, protested, prying his little fingers into the box her mother had sent.

"Well, yeah. There's those," Lyra conceded.

"Sit down, Scorpius. You can have one. Only one and then bed," Astoria told him.

They stuffed their faces with pastry and chatted. Lyra and Astoria put Scorpius to bed, the two of them alternating back and forth as he skillfully manipulated them for more stories. By ten o'clock though, both women put their foot down and left him to sleep.

"He's so much bigger," Lyra said to Astoria with a pout as they walked away from his bedroom.

"Gods, I know. And he never wants to have a cuddle anymore. It was like he turned four and everything changed. Trust me, that little disappearing act he did with you earlier is par for the course, I'm afraid. The only time I can get him to hug me now is if he's sick or upset," the blonde witch complained.

"That's bull. There should be some kind of spell to keep them cute and pliable forever," Lyra quipped.

Astoria laughed. "That would be cruel, and we should absolutely do it."

Lyra smiled at her as they rejoined the men in the sitting room.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Draco asked.

"Sure," she replied, going over to him. She turned back to their hosts. "Thank you so much for letting me see him," she said.

"You're welcome anytime," Nott said, shaking her hand.

"Draco's mother is planning a ladies tea for the Gratiot Society's spring affair, so expect a card for it soon," the blonde witch said warmly, kissing her on the cheek.

"I'm gonna be honest here and tell you that I heard the very British words you just said and will have Draco explain them to me as soon as we get home," Lyra replied, kissing the blonde witch back on the cheek.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Saturday Evening**

Draco and Lyra flooed back to the Nagini house in London and used the Vanishing Cabinet to return to the house in New York. Kira invited them for a drink in the parlor so they could get to know each other a bit better.

Kira's mother was British and liked to go back and forth between the houses for work. She and Almitra had been friends since they were little and they kept in touch.

They had a drink or two and got to chatting with a few of the ladies. Most of them knew Almitra or at least knew of her and were interested in meeting her daughter. Lyra saw no reason to maintain the secret from the people in the house. This was their home and she and Draco would be passing through it regularly in the future. She figured that they had a right to know why they would have access. Lyra was having a good time commiserating with one of them about midtown traffic when someone startled her by calling out to her boyfriend by name.

"Draco?" A flowery voice rang out, causing both Draco and Lyra to look up.

A blonde witch with chocolate brown eyes and a sexy plump figure walked over to them. She looked lovely in her sheer gown and was only a few years older than Lyra. Draco had been with his fare share of women, but he recognized her instantly...and so did Lyra. Draco got to his feet and took her hand as she arrived at their table.

"Olivia? How are you here? I mean, what..." He trailed off, shaking her hand awkwardly.

She laughed warmly. "I work here. You're in my house now," she said, her voice accented prettily with French.

"Right," Draco replied.

"You ok, Lyra? You look a little green," Kira asked.

Lyra tore her eyes away from them and looked back at her host. "I...no, I'm fine, sorry." She turned back to the witch she had been talking to and tried to carry on, hoping no one else heard the quiver in her voice. "The closest I will get to that mess is Port Authority. I take the A or the C towards Inwood, get off at the terminal and then walk. It's faster, I swear. Wait though, you come from Queens? Take the E. Same difference," she babbled, trying not to eavesdrop on Draco and the blonde witch as they conversed quietly.

"This is her! That's wonderful!" Lyra heard Olivia exclaim.

Lyra turned her head back to the woman, who was absolutely beaming at her. Lyra inhaled warily and swallowed her insecure resentment. _This woman has done nothing to you. She owes you nothing. In fact, you owe her. Ugh...she's so pretty...of course she is._

Olivia sat down in Draco's seat next to her. "You don't know me, but I..." the blonde began.

"I got your message. I..." Lyra cut her off, the heat rising in her cheeks.

Olivia reached out and took her hand.

"Thank you," Lyra sputtered out quietly. "It was...I mean, he was...thank you," she said, blushing deeper.

The blonde witch smiled and squeezed her hand. "I'm so glad," she replied. "She is every inch as beautiful as you said she was," she said, looking up at Draco who looked like he was in one of the more intense circles of hell.

"How long have you worked here?" Lyra asked, trying to make small talk.

"Five years," Olivia replied. "I can't believe it! You're Almitra's daughter too! I mean, now that I look at you, of course you are. Just gorgeous," she twittered, causing Lyra's blush to return. "He never told me you were American! Can you imagine the look on his father's face? The old bleached rat!"

That got Lyra's full attention. "I don't have to imagine it," she replied with a grin. "It was amazing."

The blonde witch and Lyra shared a laugh.

"Uh...are you ok? Now you look a little green," Kira asked Draco who had just been standing there with his mouth open watching his girlfriend and the witch who taught him how to fuck make witty smalltalk. He knew they would probably get along if they ever met, he just figured that would never conceivably happen...ever.

"I need a drink," he answered, making for the bar.

Lyra and Olivia were fast friends, because of course they were, and Draco was clearly being punished for the sins of his ancestors. If he didn't know better, and of course he DID know better, he'd say that by the time they left, Olivia was openly flirting with his witch. _Oh come on..._

He had to pull them away from each other to get Lyra in the floo to go home. _Why is this happening to me..._

By the time he got her back to her apartment, she was ready for sleep and he steered them directly towards the bedroom.

Lyra could sense his uneasiness about the interesting turn the evening had taken. She was dying to rib him about it, especially since Olivia had quite obviously been hitting on her, but she decided to give him a break. As they brushed their teeth, Lyra congratulated Draco on having found them a way to get around that was so complicated, it would put any public-transit seasoned New Yorker right at ease.

"Quiet, witch," he admonished, his mouth full of froth.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pecked his neck a few times. "I love you," she said sweetly to him and bounded into the bedroom, leaving him to finish brushing his teeth with a daft smile on his face.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- I am betting that I have about 8-10 or so chapters left on this fic. For those wondering about Olivia, her story will be part of the prequel. Thanks for reading, please review! -MM


	56. Chapter 56

**March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Sunday Morning**

"Baby? Can we go see Harry and Ginny today?" Lyra called out to him from the bathroom as she did her makeup.

 _No response._

"I know you're listening," Lyra said with a smile in her voice.

He groaned and flopped over in the bed. "Why?"

"Because I didn't tell them I was leaving. I bet Harry heard it from Shacklebolt. You know how he gets. He's probably all bent out of shape about it," she explained.

"I could not care less how that wanker is bent," Draco grumbled.

"Well I care!" Lyra protested, peaking her head into the room. She walked over to the his side of the bed and sat next to him. He rolled onto his back and made a suggestive little noise with his throat at the sight of her with her hair and make up done wearing nothing but her underwear.

"Why in Merlin's name would I let you out of this room right now," he purred, taking her waist in his hands.

She leaned down and hovered her mouth over his, curling her fingers in the hair behind his ears. "Because you love me and you want to make me happy," she purred back before pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth and strolling into her closet.

 _Damn,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England  
** **Sunday Afternoon**

Lyra fidgeted nervously in front of the door to Harry and Ginny's house. With the time change it was mid-afternoon in London and Lyra could see warm light coming from the upstairs sitting room. They were definitely home. She inhaled shakily.

Draco unceremoniously knocked on the door, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She heard noise and yelling from behind the door and smiled. _Controlled chaos_ , Ginny had called it once. The door opened suddenly and James looked up at them.

"Hey! Are your mom and dad here?" Lyra asked the little boy.

James took in a deep breath. Lyra winced. _Here it comes_...

"MUMMY AUNTIE LYRA IS HERE AND SHE BROUGHT A FRIEND!" He bellowed, running back down the hall.

"Thank you, James. Mummy is deaf now," Ginny said, passing him and opening the door wider.

Her red hair was a mess, she was wearing jeans and an old jumper and she had an infant in her arms. She looked lovely.

"Ginny," Lyra said quietly.

"Oh thank the gods, Lyra. Here, take Lily," Ginny said, pushing the baby into her arms, ushering her inside and guiding her down the hall. "Malfoy, if you behave this time, I suppose you can come in the front door," she shouted behind her.

Draco quirked his lips and followed the women back towards the kitchen.

Lyra paced around the table cooing at the tiny redhead snuggled into her chest. "Aren't you just mommy's little clone? Oh I love you to bits."

Draco took a seat and watched her bounce the baby while Ginny scrounged up some snacks. He could hear the other two Potterlings yelling at each other upstairs.

Lyra had just rounded the corner of the table when Harry entered the room from the hallway.

Harry and Lyra locked eyes. He looked tired. Like he'd aged a year in the last five months. She'd seen him at Azkaban, but had been too unwell to actually take stock of him. Lyra frowned. _Think of something nice to say_ , she thought to herself.

"Yikes. You look like shit, Potter," she said flatly, pressing a kiss to the fuzzy auburn head tucked under her chin.

Harry made a stunned look at her while Ginny and Draco laughed.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows. "You've looked better yourself, twiggy," he countered.

"Twiggy? You've had ages to prepare a retort for this moment, and you give me twiggy? My god, Harry..." Lyra admonished, shaking her head.

His facade broke and he grinned wide, coming over to her to give her a half hug while she held his daughter. "It's nice to see you," he said into her hair.

"You too," she replied. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I left. I...I wasn't really myself," she mumbled.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Honestly, I'm glad you got out before the press or bureaucrats got a hold of you," he said. "I knew you'd come crawling back eventually. You can't give us up," he joked.

Lyra smiled. "That is true," she replied. "Nice baby you have here."

Harry nodded. "She's brilliant. Lily. After..."

"Your mom," Lyra finished. She looked back down and addressed the baby. "You know, Lily Potter, we were both named after your grandma. She and my dad used to be friends, and now we're friends! How fun is that!?"

Harry made a sappy dad face at them and Lyra rolled her eyes. "Stop," she admonished him.

"Right," he replied, coughing awkwardly, looking over the table at her boyfriend. "Malfoy," Harry nodded in acknowledgement.

"Potter," Draco replied coldly, sipping on a mug of tea. He looked over at Ginny and smirked. "Oy, Weasley. Where'd a little church mouse like you get a necklace that nice?" Draco teased.

Ginny looked up from her dinner preparations and grinned salaciously at him. "My secret admirer sent it to me after the baby was born. He knows how good I look in blue," she chirped sweetly.

Lyra snorted as the tips of Harry's ears turned red with annoyance. She looked back at the pale blue pendant around her friend's neck. "Beautiful," she confirmed.

Lyra came around and sat next to Draco, balancing Lily on her leg, so she could nibble on a biscuit or two. This, apparently, would just not do for baby Lily who began to fuss as soon as Lyra had a mouthful.

"Oh, sweetie. It's ok," Lyra chirped, bouncing the baby on her knee. After about a minute of trying to soothe her, Lyra realized that Lily Potter would not have it. Lily Potter demanded snuggles.

"Here, let me," Draco said, reaching across and snatching the crying infant from off her leg.

He expertly tucked the baby in the crook of one of his arms, using his perfectly tailored jacket to wrap under her and support her bottom. He did it so fast that it seemed to stun poor baby Lily in to silence.

"Whoa," Lyra said, mouth full of biscuit, peering over at them.

Lily stared up at him in awe for a moment before contentedly shoving one of her hands into her mouth to chew. She reached the other one up to grip on to Draco's silk tie.

Draco looked down at the baby and smiled handsomely.

Lily Potter smiled back.

"What's that you've got there, little love? Is that scrummy? Let me see," Draco said to her softly, taking her tiny hand off his tie and pressing some loud smacky kisses into her palm. She squealed happily.

"Yes, that's quite right," he confirmed.

Draco looked up to see three sets of eyes on him.

Potter looked...confused.

Ginny and Lyra looked about ready to swoon.

"Awwww. She likes you," Lyra noted.

"She has good taste," Draco quipped back, studying the little redhead's face. S _he can't be half Potter...she's so cute. Must be some kind of mistake,_ he thought to himself.

They stayed late at the Potter's chatting and eating. By the time they left, Lyra and Draco decided to stay in London, rather than make the long trek back to New York. Draco gave her one of his dress shirts to sleep in, seeing as she didn't have any clothes. The site of her was mouthwatering and he ached to have at her, but he could tell she was exhausted from the day, so he settled for wrapping his body around hers protectively and letting his warmth lull her to sleep.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England  
** **Monday**

Lyra woke up alone, but she could already smell the pancakes. She smiled to herself and made her way to Draco's closet to pull on a pair of his cloth pants.

She was halfway down the hallway when a little blonde cannonball barreled into her legs.

"You were asleep for forever!" Scorpius complained, gripping on to the hem of her shirt.

She smiled down at him and picked him up, carrying him into the kitchen, where Draco was opening styrofoam containers of breakfast.

"What time is it? Hey! Is that from the Savoy?" She asked.

"Ten-thirty and yes," Draco replied, not looking up.

Lyra couldn't believe she'd slept that long. She also couldn't believe Draco went all the way to Westminster to get her breakfast.

"You hungry, spider monkey?" Lyra asked Scorpius.

"Yes!" He exclaimed in exasperation.

"Oh my goodness! Won't somebody feed this child!" She lamented putting him in a chair next to her.

Draco set a plate in front of him and leaned over to kiss the side of her head.

They ate breakfast while Scorpius asked questions about New York. He was skeptical about it at first, but changed his tune when Lyra told him about the subway.

"They're under the ground?!" He exclaimed.

"Yep and they can take you anywhere. Well, anywhere on the Nomaj side," she explained.

"What's Nomaj side?" He asked.

"It's the Muggle side of New York," she replied.

Scorpius frowned. "Why do the Muggles get all the trains?"

"Well, because the Muggles can't fly and they can't use the floo like we do, but they gotta get around somehow," she reasoned.

"They can't use the floo?!" It's good they have the trains then. You know, so they can go see their daddies," he answered definitively.

Lyra beamed at him. "Exactly. Bunch of strung out investment bankers hopping on the train to go see their dads."

Draco snorted. Scorpius nodded seriously.

"What's investment bankers?" The little boy asked her.

"I am going to leave that one to you," she said to her boyfriend.

"Investment bankers. How do I put this? I like think of them as very useful idiots in suits," Draco said to his son.

Lyra laughed. Scorpius shrugged.

Lyra finished her breakfast and dressed quickly so they could take Scorpius to the park.

The sky was gray and it was a little chilly, but it was England, so that was to be expected.

They made their way across the green to a gnarled tree at the back corner of the little park. Being a Monday morning, there weren't a lot of people, but Draco noticed that those who were there had no qualms about staring at them. He put his best scowl on instinctively.

Lyra brought that to an end by running a gentle hand down his cheek. "Stop it, Frog. It's fine. They're just curious," she soothed.

Draco produced a little training snitch for he and Scorpius to chase, while Lyra lounged against the tree. Her morning was going quite well, she thought. Sitting on her duff and watching her boys play. She was happy.

Scorpius, being a tiny Malfoy, got mad after several missed passes with the snitch and pouted his way over to Lyra, pitching himself forlornly into her lap.

"What's the matter?" She asked, running her fingers through his silky white hair.

"I'm rubbish," he moped, snuggling into her arms.

She smiled. "Cut yourself some slack, kiddo! You're still learning and you're still growing!"

He frowned. "I'll never be big like daddy. He can catch it."

"Oh come on, now. You'll be exactly as big as you're supposed to be and you'll be just fine. Don't worry about being just like your dad. Be yourself. A little spider monkey who loves trains and pancakes and and his gran," she soothed.

"And Harpy," he whispered with a devious smirk on his face.

Lyra barked out a laugh.

"I love you too," she replied to him quietly, hugging him closer to her. By some miracle, he allowed it.

"What are you two buzzing about," Draco asked, settling into the grass next to them.

Lyra and Scorpius shrugged in unison.

"Suspicious," Draco remarked, with a raised eyebrow.

"We were just talking about how much we love you," Lyra teased. "Almost as much as pancakes and trains."

Draco frowned. "Praise indeed."

Lyra leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Are you going to get married like Mummy and Theo?" Scorpius asked them innocently.

Lyra went rigid and Draco shifted nervously against the tree.

"If you get married, does that mean I have to dress up again and take pictures? I don't like that one bit," the little boy said dramatically.

"Well, son, Lyra and I are doing what people do before they decide to get married or not," Draco explained.

"Oh. How long does that take?" He pressed.

"It depends. You have to make sure that you're in love and that you'd be willing to share your life with the other person," Lyra answered.

"Yeah, and make babies," Scorpius added.

Lyra sputtered and Draco coughed awkwardly.

"You don't have to have babies, son. I mean...unless you want to because I think that'd be brilliant and I should probably stop talking now," he said, shifting his audience from Scorpius to Lyra.

"If you have a baby, will it be my brother?" Scoripus asked, missing the weirdness.

"Scorpius..." Draco began, trying to stop him. Lyra was probably mortified. Her face was painted in a lovely blush.

"I suppose, it would," Lyra answered. "What would you think of that?"

Scorpius thought for a moment. "That's good, I guess. I could teach him about the trains," he theorized.

Draco was stunned silent.

Lyra beamed down at the child in her arms. "Regardless of whether or not your dad and I get married and have babies, you should know that we both love you very much. Always and no matter what," she said to him seriously.

Scorpius smiled up at her. "Yeah, I know," he replied with confidence.

She snorted. "When he's cocky, he's your son. His mother would never make that face," Lyra said to Draco while looking down at his smirking son.

"Marry me," Draco said softly to her.

Lyra pulled her eyes from Scorpius and looked over at her boyfriend.

"What?" She asked, blinking hard.

"Marry me. I love you, I want to share my life with you. Those were your conditions and that is my opinion. You should marry me. Soon too, before someone else snaps me up. I am quite the looker, you know," he quipped, adjusting his wool jacket.

"I...uh...sorry...what?" Lyra asked again.

Scorpius groaned and pulled himself up to trudge back out to the green to chase the little snitch.

"Oy, where are you going?" Draco called.

His son turned back and grumbled. "You're going to make me dress up and take pictures. I'm going to play."

"Right," Draco replied, turning back to his witch who appeared to going into shock.

"You don't have to answer right now. I had no intention of pressuring you, it was just...what you said was...and I couldn't help it. It just came out," he tried to explain.

Lyra furrowed her brow.

"I meant it," Draco reassured her. "I want you. I want this...all of it," he added.

Lyra instinctively circled her fingers around her wrist in search of her transfiguration bracelet and then shifted hoping Draco hadn't noticed, but of course he had.

"Sweetheart," he said gently, eyeing her wrist. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sprung that on you now."

Lyra looked at him and frowned. "No, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just...I..." she sputtered and tried to calm down. "I don't know what to say."

Draco leaned in and kissed her forehead. "You don't have to say anything, love. It's not the right time. I think we can both agree that it would be best if we waited and got to a point where the prospect being my wife didn't make you want to turn into a bear to escape," he said trying to diffuse the tension.

Lyra sighed warily and snuggled into his side to ward off the chill and settle her nerves. She felt terrible for rejecting him, not just because she could tell it hurt him, but because she wanted so badly to say yes. She just...couldn't.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Sorry for the delay, everybody! I've been working a lot on the prequel and have been trying to find good ways to wind the two together and it's been spreading me thin. I really like how the prequel is shaping up and hope to have a preview chapter out very soon. Thanks for reading, please review! -MM


	57. Chapter 57

**Author's Note - This chapter is dedicated to Ahsilaa and 19irene96...because reasons. :)**

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England**

Lyra stayed with Draco in London for a few days so she could go into the Ministry to formalize her pardon and official transfer back to MCUSA. Aside from profuse apologies to Darwin and Dinesh, the two men she stunned to break out of the Auror Department, she pretty much just kept her head down and stuck to her team as much as possible. She found herself avoiding the numerous pats on the back as much as the (blessedly few) judgmental scowls from strangers about everything that had transpired.

She did pitch an idea to Shacklebolt about the possibility of a jointly sanctioned Auror exchange between MCUSA and the Ministry for training and collaboration. She knew that under any other Minister for Magic it would be a non-starter, but Kinglsley seemed intrigued by the possibility of more open channels between Great Britain and other wizarding governments. It was a departure from previous administrations to be sure.

She already knew that she wanted Harry and her whole team to come to New York if the exchange were approved. She was happy to be getting the hell out of dodge, make no mistake, but she had fought alongside these people. They were etched onto her now. She trusted them and would be sad to leave them, even Blaise...not that she would ever tell him that.

They went out Friday evening to celebrate her farewell. Lyra discovered that Rossman and Simpkins had started dating while she was in prison and that, in a surprising turn of events, Simpkins was a hell of a dancer. She was happy to let him push her around the floor for a few turns while her buzz was setting in.

She got drunk enough to the point where Gold convinced her to try his Eqyptian pipes again and this time she actually did puke...all over his shoes. _That'll teach him_ , she slurred to herself and to everybody within earshot.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Wizarding London, England**  
 **Saturday Morning**

She woke up Saturday on Zabini's couch, hungover and still wearing her tight black dress. She wiggled a little and learned that she was not alone on said couch. She was wrapped up like rice noodles with Rossman, who was snoozing soundly with her cheek resting on Lyra's breasts.

 _Hey. Not bad. She smells almost as good as Draco does_ , Lyra thought to herself.

She turned her head to yawn, so she wouldn't offend her snuggle buddy with her morning breath, and saw Draco and Simpkins standing next to each other, staring intently at them.

She imagined the suggestive picture they must have made. Slinky little cocktail dresses, wild hair, legs intertwined.

Lyra grumbled and made to extricate herself from Rossman, but Draco stopped her.

"Don't move, Sweetheart. You look absolutely perfect just where you are," he said, tilting his head to the side to study the women.

"I have to agree. It would be a shame if you got up and felt ill," Simpkins added as a practical matter.

Lyra sighed. Her deep breath stirred the woman in her arms and Azalea, in her sleep, ran her hand down Lyra's spine, stopping at her bottom and went still once more.

Lyra looked back and saw Draco's eyes melt to mercury and Simpkin's black to pure onyx.

She scoffed and gathered the blonde witch closer. "Rossman," she whispered gently to her friend.

The woman responded by snuggling deeper into her chest. Lyra laughed, and ran her tan foot along Azalea's pale calf.

She heard Draco make a choked noise in the back of his throat.

"Azalea, wake up, honey. Our boyfriends are perving on us," she cooed.

The blonde slowly came awake and pulled her head reluctantly off her friend to look at the men rudely staring at them.

"Wankers," she mumbled before letting her head fall back on to Lyra's boobs.

"I mean, in a bit, yeah," Draco admitted.

"Ohmigod, Draco! Could you not!" Lyra snipped.

At that moment both Gold and Zabini came in from an adjacent room and stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Black and Rossman scantily clad and curled around each other like snakes.

"Ladies, my couch is your couch and you can come over anytime," Zabini remarked.

The two women groaned and wiggled away from each other to sit up, each bracing themselves against the spinning of the room as they did so.

"Up with you, Black. Breakfast," Draco directed as he approached and pulled her carefully to her feet.

Lyra felt some uneasy flips in her stomach. "Wha...breakfast?" She mumbled, resting her aching head on his shoulder.

"Yep. With my mother," he said.

"What?!" Lyra exclaimed.

* * *

Draco had hauled Lyra into the floo at Zabini's without so much as a splash of water on her dirty face. They emerged into the sitting room of Narcissa's London townhouse with Draco looking like a vintage movie star and Lyra looking like a melted rat. A drunk-ass melted rat.

Lyra was arguing with him about that fact when Narcissa came in to greet them.

"Hello, my dears!" The pretty blonde witch called to them with open arms.

Draco kissed his mother on the cheek, per their custom and Lyra pulled back from their hug to explain her disheveled appearance.

"Draco! You could have owled me to say she needed some time to change. That was naughty," Narcissa agreed. "Well, love, you can go up to Draco's room. There's a bath and I'll bring you a change of clothes.

Lyra sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."

Lyra went upstairs, washed the grime off her body in the bath and brushed her teeth. She emerged into the posh green bedroom and saw that Narcissa had left her a lovely dress to wear and a revitalizing potion for her hangover. The woman was a gift, it needed to be said.

Lyra slipped into the sundress. It had thin straps with a v-neckline and a pale green sash that laid high on her waist. It was feminine and simple. Lyra spelled her hair dry and straight and left it loose. She slipped into the nude ballet flats Narcissa had left. She was grateful for them. Her feet were still bent out of shape from her pumps the night before.

She downed the revitalizing potion and headed out the door in search of her people. She bounded into the downstairs dining room and found them whispering to each other in hushed tones by the fire.

"Ah, Lyra. You look lovely. Do you feel better?" Narcissa asked.

"I do. You are a perfect human being and I adore you. Thank you," she chirpped, kissing the blonde on the cheek.

"Of course," Narcissa replied with a sweet smile.

Lyra turned to scowl at Draco, but he pulled her into him before she even had the chance. He kissed her gently on the temple and inhaled her scent, which was his scent because she'd used all of his shower things upstairs. "You smell good enough to eat, witch."

"But let's not, though. I'm starving," Lyra retorted pouting, but not pulling out of his arms.

Narcissa stuffed Lyra with food until she was bursting and filled her in on the details of a ladies tea she was putting on next weekend and wanted Lyra to attend. Lyra accepted without hesitation, not because she gave a damn about tea, but she gave a damn about Narcissa and wanted to support her.

After breakfast, Narcissa had some finance something or other to discuss with her son, so Lyra went up to the library to relax with a tumbler of whiskey and browsed their bookshelves.

Lyra wasn't very focused on her drink or the bookshelves, however. She was thinking about Draco. She had been quiet during the week. She wasn't angry, or, she should say, she wasn't angry with Draco. Quite the contrary. He had been infinitely patient with her and loving, since he'd proposed on Monday...and since she'd been released from prison...and really since she saw him that day at the Savoy all those months ago. He was different. He was treating her unselfishly and working diligently to be there for her. It felt wonderful...and scary. She knew the right the to do, she was just too much of a coward to do it. Even still...after everything. What did that say about her?

Draco and Narcissa found her then and they spent the afternoon together reading and lounging by the fire.

Draco ran a good game, but he wasn't focused on his book or his mother's sweet but idle conversation. He was thinking about Lyra, like always. She had been withdrawn during the week, pensive. She was obsessing about something. He made no attempts to look into her mind, despite desperately wanting to on occasion. She remained as affectionate as ever, but she hadn't initiated any sex since the week prior when he'd turned her down because they were in her parent's house. He was kicking himself a bit for that now but made no effort to pressure her or put her on the spot. He'd done that enough this week, he figured.

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Saturday Afternoon**

Draco and Lyra returned to New York. It was lunchtime for the other New Yorkers, but dinnertime for them. They ducked into one of Lyra's favorite dives in Hell's Kitchen for a bite and then went back to her flat.

She planned on trying to stay awake until eight New York time so she could get over some of the time change before work on Monday. _Ugh_. She knew what was coming. Hours of debrief with the legal team and endless ribbing from Patrick and the Aurors. She wasn't looking forward to that, but she was looking forward to seeing her friends.

"Sweetheart?" Draco asked.

"Hmm?" She asked, snapping back to reality.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, work mostly. About having to tell my story all over again. I'm worried that they won't let me raid for a while and I'm double worried that that will be a good call on their part because of how damn out of shape I am," she lamented.

He smiled at her and looked away into the fire.

She studied the profile of his handsome face. She could sense his apprehension and anxiety about what happened on Monday. She didn't want him to feel bad about it, but she didn't know how to talk to him about it either. _Well, shit. If only there was some way you two kids could communicate full thoughts and memories to each other without having to lay it all out in words_ , she thought, chastising herself.

She sighed long. _Don't be a coward, Black. Do it._

She reached her hand up and curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I love you," she informed him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I love you too," he replied.

"Baby," she whispered.

"What?" He whispered back, a little smile playing on his lips.

"Can I read you?" She asked. It was a question she'd been avoiding since she'd woken up in St. Mungo's after he'd tried to kill her. They'd talked, they'd shared, but they never really got into everything.

"For what?" He questioned.

"For everything," she answered.

His gaze swept over her face and lingered on her mouth. He leaned in and gave her a slow kiss. "You may," he replied.

Lyra smiled and kissed him again. She stood and faced him, drawing her wand. "Are you gonna block me?" She asked.

"Do you want me to?" He replied, raising his eyebrow.

Lyra twisted her wand nervously in her hands and decided to tell him the truth. "I...I honestly don't know. I'm nervous."

Draco leaned forward. "Hey. It's alright. We've done this a thousand times," he soothed.

She nodded and leveled her wand between his eyes, bracing herself.

"Legilimens..."

His mind engulfed her and it took her breath away. Not because it was shocking, or because it was frightening, but because it was so familiar. It was like coming home. She was surrounded by the swirling currents of his memories and emotions and it felt like a warm blanket that she wanted to melt into.

She felt him pushing her. He'd made a decision just now. He wanted to show her something. She followed without hesitation back into his memories.

He showed her them as children. Playful and tenacious. He thought she was pretty and that she smelled nice, then spent a fair amount of time admonishing himself for liking an American girl with unsure blood.

Lyra understood then. She had said 'everything,' so Draco was going to show her everything. His life and her part in it. No walls, no obstacles. She was riveted.

He showed her what was basically a montage of them falling in love. How they broke each other down layer by layer, memory by memory. How he slowly, over the years, engulfed her in his net of unwavering loyalty that included only his family and one or two other friends. How he missed her when she was gone. Missed her voice, missed her reassuring presence in his head. Missed her pestering. Lived for her letters, boring things from school about Pukwudgies and wandlore. He would do anything for her, keep any secret for her. She was priceless to him and that made her so dangerous.

He showed her how his life started changing when the Dark Lord returned in earnest. How his father, once just vicious and bored, became increasingly fanatical and unpredictable in pursuit of Voldemort's favor. How he had wanted to get out so many times, but stayed for his mother. He didn't want to leave her alone.

He showed her how he changed. How he withdrew, how he became more cruel, more desperate. He showed her how hard he worked to keep her out of that part of his mind. How Severus had helped him do it. How afraid he was she would discover what was happening. How seeing her two or three times in a year was one of the only things he looked forward to. One of the only times he felt friendship. The only time he could kiss a girl and mean it. She saw his gradual realization that he was a danger to her and would likely have to crush her to keep her safe. He didn't think he could do it. Not to her.

He showed her a sweet picture of them dancing together for her birthday when she was sixteen. Him holding her in his arms, wanting to break down and tell her everything like he used to. He was exhausted from closing parts of his mind off to her and then she pulled him into hers and let him see what she wanted. She wanted him. She loved him. It filled him with equal parts joy and terror. She was too good. He was too dark. Too far gone.

She saw herself stretched out underneath him the last time they were together when they were young, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She saw, at a distance this time, the way he did everything in reverence, like she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. He allowed her to feel the emotions he'd been carrying. He didn't deserve to be inside her, but he couldn't help himself. She saw herself buck against him frantically. Heard herself beg him for more. More of him. _Faster. Please Draco. Stay_. She felt him snap. He was done. He knew, in that moment, that he would never feel this loved, never feel this complete ever again.

He watched her sleeping that night and knew what he had to do when she left. No more letters, no more dancing. Let Severus tell her that he'd gotten himself a shallow, pureblood girlfriend that he was sure to marry and be done with it. She could rage then heal and be free. Free of him and all of the darkness he brought with him.

She saw him leave her the next morning. He kissed her. Told her with a snotty smirk that she was a bossy little git and that he'd see her in four months. It was too casual and he'd watched her furrow her brow at him in confusion. He put her in a cab to the airport, installed himself in a dingy pub in Muggle London and dropped his head into his hands. That was it. The last bridge he had to burn with the light. All he had to do now was die for a cause he didn't believe in, hopefully finding a way to get his mother out. Snape. Snape would help.

Lyra pressed against his mind so she could watch him sitting alone sadly, getting drunk and dreading the future. He was thinking that he had to get back to the Manor. The Dark Lord would be expecting him to be there for more humiliation...more orders...more things to do so he could live another day. Lyra's heart broke for him.

His memories swept forward over the war. His and his parent's trial. His house arrest. Days spent wandering around the grounds, drunk. Reliving the evil he'd seen there, reliving his many failures. Reliving the confusion on her face when he sent her away.

He stunned her by showing a memory of himself in New York, watching her out with her friends at Seven Belles in Brooklyn. She was maybe nineteen or twenty. He was letting her see how he saw her. Incandescent. Full of life. Happy. He wanted to reach out to her but he didn't want to bring her back into the darkness. Back into the dysfunction. He didn't want her have to endure his notoriety back in England or the passive aggressive judgement of his aristocratic parents. He just wanted her to be happy. And she was. So he left.

His memories then raced over his marriage to a simple pureblood girl he settled down with mostly to stop his mother from crying all the time.

He paused briefly on the memory of him holding Scorpius for the first time and Lyra felt the weight of that love in her own mind. It was pure. It had reminded him that we was yet capable of that kind of emotion. He hadn't felt it since he'd had her.

She saw his indifference towards his wife. His bored reasonableness when she told him she'd been unfaithful. He understood. He wasn't available. He couldn't give her what she needed, what she deserved. She saw his memory of Astoria's heartbroken outrage when he said he wouldn't interfere with her affair. She felt his sadness as the divorce split his family and limited his time with his son.

She saw him lonely, broken and empty. His dreams filled with the sad ghosts of his past and the occasional happy memories of his son and his mother. She saw him drunk and high, fucking his way through Europe, trying to dull his regret.

Suddenly his mind went black. There were only faint voices. His, maybe his mother. Astoria. Harry. Maybe hers?

The next thing she was him waking up on the floor of the ballroom with his head pounding, looking around disoriented until his eyes fell upon Harry scrambling to shove a bezoar down the throat of a bloody corpse...with her face.

He showed her his reaction to hearing the tapes of him nearly killing her. How he could barely breathe. Her screams were forever burned into his brain. Hearing her fight for her life in fear and desperation was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced, and he had experienced some truly horrible things.

She felt his shock and crippling anxiety when he saw her at the Savoy that day. What could he say? _Sorry I almost killed you, sorry I tortured you? Sorry we were tools together in my father's sick game, I love you?_ He was angry. He blamed himself. She was the sunshine, he was nothing. She'd come within an inch of death to save his son, his entire world, and the last interactions he'd had with her involved him abandoning her and then trying to kill her. He had no right to look at her, let alone love her.

He expected her to reject him, to be cruel, mostly because it's what he would have done in her place. Not Lyra. She gifted him with her kindness just as she had always done. She was ruffled and unsure of herself, but she was unbroken. Still perfect, still better than he would ever be and far better than he deserved.

She skated through the rekindling of their romance and felt the love, adoration and feelings of unworthiness roll around in his mind as he tried to balance being with her with aching to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

She sneaked a peak at a bit of his testimony against his father. It was fierce, honest and unafraid. She hadn't seen it because she'd been in a holding cell in the bowels of the Ministry. She was immeasurably proud of him.

He showed her herself when he first saw her after her release. How could he have let this happen to his witch? He had failed to protect her in nearly every way. _Be prepared for her to ask you to leave, Draco_ , he'd told himself. _Whatever she asks of you, you will do. Deserve her._

Lyra pulled out of his mind suddenly and started sobbing.

She shed a decade of tears in an hour, caged safely in his arms. He held her tightly murmuring soft apologies and declarations of love into her hair.

After she quieted herself, she pulled out of his arms and looked at him very seriously. Her hair was curling from her sweat, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were the clearest pale gold he'd seen since they were young and free from the terrible burden of their experiences. Draco thought she looked beautiful. Beautiful and real.

"I'm so sorry about Monday," she said gently.

He shook his head. "No. I should have never..."

"Yes," She said.

He paused, confused. "Yes, what, Sweetheart?"

"Yes, I want to marry you," she said, looking down.

Draco froze. After a moment, he gently took her chin in his hand to get her to look at him. "What?"

She smiled and her chin quivered a bit. "You should marry me. Soon too, before someone else snaps me up. I am quite the looker, you know," she said, parroting his own words back to him.

"Is that really what you want?" He questioned, his heart beating erratically.

Lyra nodded and fell back into his arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note** -

So I wanted the engagement to happen last chapter, but I didn't want it to happen before Lyra got inside Draco's head and it just didn't flow the way I wanted it to. I decided a misfire on the proposal would be a good catalyst to get Lyra to read him. She'd been avoiding it for a long time because she was afraid it would mess her up...and it did, but not really in the way she expected. So now our kids are getting married. More mushy-gushies and lemons to follow. Yayyyy! -MM


	58. Chapter 58

**M rated for the first bit :)**

* * *

 **March 2009**  
 **Nomaj Manhattan, New York**  
 **Saturday Afternoon**

He took her slowly. Readying her with his fingers and his mouth before pushing into her tight passage.

Lyra gasped from the burn. It hurt for just a second, but even the hurt felt good. It felt right.

After the pain subsided, Lyra took Draco's face in both of her hands. "Do you feel that?" She asked, rolling her hips up to meet his.

He grunted. "Yes," he breathed out.

"That is where you belong," she informed him, repeating the action and causing a heated moan to escape her own lips.

She flexed her smooth inner muscles around his stiff cock and he hissed. She smiled deviously up at him. "That is what you deserve," she murmured hotly, pulling his mouth down to hers, swallowing his growl.

He kissed her deeply, allowing her to move for them. He pulled out of the kiss to catch his breath after she increased the tempo of her work.

"Fuck, Lyra," he groaned, looking down at her little body writing underneath his, her warm, wet core stroking him to perfection.

"I missed you so much," Lyra whispered to him.

Draco gripped her waist with one hand and started pumping into her with some force. He knew she was out of practice, but he trusted her to tell him if it was painful.

He got the distinct impression that it was not, in fact, painful. She threw her head back and let him drive into her, begging him to continue.

He laid his cheek down on the pillow and brought his mouth level with her ear. "There is nothing in the world that makes me feel more complete than you do." He whispered, shifting to cradle her head gently in one hand.

Lyra whimpered.

He kissed the space behind her ear then traveled down to press slow kisses into her neck. She gasped and reached down to grip onto his hips.

"Anything inside me that is decent has your name written all over it." He confessed to her between kisses.

He pulled back to look at her. She was clinging to him desperately, trying to minimize the space between them. Draco's chest tightened pleasantly at the sight of her like this. He never felt more wanted, more understood or more worthy than when she reached for him. She made him better, made him something other than what he was born to. It was her. It had always been her.

He felt her come around him then, her silken sheath milking him rhythmically in time to her climax. He loved that feeling. It felt possessive, like her body was claiming his.

After she recovered, she started encouraging him to come inside her. Telling him how good it felt, how warm it made her, how much she wanted it and how fucking hot it was. He didn't need the incentive, he was practically done for, but he liked hearing her say it all the same. After just a bit more stimulation, he buried himself as deep as he could and marked her body as if it were and extension of his own.

He hadn't come inside his witch in so long that the rush of his release nearly knocked the wind out of him. He collapsed down on to her, pillowing his head on the soft wave of her hair. _His future wife's hair_ , he thought to himself, feeling dizzy from happiness and the fact that all of his blood was still trapped in his groin.

* * *

They stayed in bed until the sun went down, kissing, talking and making love. Lyra was on her stomach, resting her forearms on Draco's ribs, telling him a story about the time her coworker Carmen got turned into a clock during a raid when Draco couldn't contain his excitement any longer and had to stop her.

"Can I show you something? I promise I will resume diligently listening to...whatever it is you're on about afterwards," he said, with false contrition.

Lyra raised an annoyed eyebrow at him. _At her future husband_ , she thought to herself, letting the butterflies bang around in her stomach. "It better be good," she replied.

He jumped out of bed, stark naked, and left the room. Lyra flipped over and pulled the sheet up under her arms, tamed her hair into a low ponytail and ran her hands decadently over her body, feeling happy, smug and very well fucked.

Draco strolled back into the room like he owned the place. He sat in front of her while she rested her back on the headboard of her bed. He handed her a little scroll of parchment and Lyra looked back at him confused.

"Mum had Scorpius on Tuesday and he just casually mentioned to her, in his way, that you and I were going to get married. I know I don't need to tell you the kind of fit that sent my mother into," Draco began.

Lyra's eyes widened nervously.

"I told her, sweetheart. I told her what happened, but you know how she is. Anyway, that business she pulled me away for today was for this. Said she wanted me to have it 'just in case.'"

He put a little red box on her thigh and Lyra stopped breathing.

"Don't put it on unless you really love it. It's got a rather particular kind of magic associated with it. She explains it all in there," he said motioning to the scroll in Lyra's hand.

Lyra swallowed hard and opened the parchment.

Lyra,  
You are a kind and intelligent woman with a boundless love for both Draco and my grandson. There is nothing more I could want in a daughter-in-law. I'd like to offer you a Black family heirloom to wear as a symbol of your engagement. This ring was last worn by my mother and has been in my family, in our family, for five generations. It bears all of the standard protection spells common to old family rings, but is unique in several ways. According to our appraiser, when the ring is spelled to and worn by the betrothed, both the gem and the metal change color to match the woman. When paired with the wedding band during the marriage ceremony, the ring changes again to reflect the change in the bride. It has some divinative properties and will change in color to alert the lady to the conception of an heir and warn her of danger to herself, her husband and her children. The dedication and decommissioning spells are quite complicated (as they always are), so make sure you really like this one before you put it on. If it doesn't suit you, we can always have something made or go jewel hunting in the Malfoy vaults.  
With love,  
NM

Lyra let a playful smirk turn up the corners of her lips at Narcissa's last line. "She's so funny," she breathed, glancing over at the box.

Draco smiled. "She thought you might like something from her side and figured you wouldn't really want to wear the ring my father gave to her, or the one that I gave to Astoria."

Lyra made a face. "She would be correct."

"Do you want to see it?" Draco asked.

"I mean...it would be rude not to. It's such a nice gesture from your mother," Lyra replied, too quickly.

Draco quirked his lips playfully at her and flipped the box open with one hand.

Lyra gasped. _Yeah, ok_ , she thought to herself.

The ring was a clear round solitaire bordered on one side by thin projections resembling rays of light done in delicate yellow gold. It was unique and beautiful. The stone was large, but not obscenely so.

"It looks like a sunrise," Lyra mused dreamily down at it.

"Does it look like you? We can always go with something else," Draco said gently, studying her face.

Lyra reached out and ran her finger over the diamond center. She could feel the ring's unique magic vibrate under her touch. For a moment, Lyra was afraid that the ring would do something undignified like question her blood status, but it didn't. It had a warming kind of buzz that Lyra found reassuring and calming. If she had to affix any one trait to the ring in front of her she would probably go with...

"Loyal," Lyra muttered aloud.

"What's loyal?" Draco asked.

"The ring," she replied.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," she said quietly.

"It's a little small," Draco noted, ever the brat prince.

"I'm a little small," Lyra shrugged.

Draco snorted and looked back down at the ring. "So, in some circles, they do the spellbinding and all that as an event, like an engagement party. If you want, I'm sure my mother can..." Draco started.

"Can we do it with just me and you?" Lyra asked hopefully. "I mean, I don't want to offend your mom," she added.

Draco smiled and plucked the ring from the box. He looked around for his wand, which had been carelessly discarded hours earlier with his clothes. He grabbed it from off the floor and sat back down next to Lyra.

"You mean now?" she asked, suprised.

"Why not now?" Draco retorted.

Lyra frowned. "We're naked," she whispered, leaning towards him, like it was a secret.

He laughed. "Sweetheart, I don't think the ring much cares."

"Oh," she replied. "You know how to do it?" She asked curiously.

Draco nodded.

Lyra took an unsteady breath. "Okay," she said nervously.

Draco cleared his throat and pointed his wand at the ring in his hand. He began muttering quiet incantations, causing swirls of smoke to come from his wand and encircle the ring. After a few minutes, he set his wand in his lap and took Lyra's hand.

"Witch, do you accept this token of intention?" He said to her in his silkiest voice.

In America, nobody had ring binding ceremonies anymore, it was something reserved for eccentrics and debutantes. Fortunately, Lyra had read enough old romance stories to know what to do here. "What are your intentions, wizard?" She questioned.

From what she knew of the outdated practice, the wizard had to proclaim a true intention for the binding to work. In arranged unions, they could say something like 'I intend to do my duty to my name,' or 'I intend to make you the mother of my heirs.' Real romantic stuff.

Draco's steely eyes melted to pure silver. "I intend to make you my wife and love you ceaselessly until I die," he replied surely.

"Wow," Lyra whispered, dropping her eyes bashfully."In that case, I accept."

They both focused on her hand as Draco slid the ring on to her finger. He picked his wand back up and performed the final spells that made the ring hers and hers alone.

Lyra felt the ring size to her finger. Its presence on her hand sent a pleasant warmth throughout her whole body. It felt like Draco's magic on her skin. It felt like his touch.

Lyra smiled at him and leaned into kiss him but stopped when she felt her hand tingle. She looked down to see her ring emitting a gentle glow. The center diamond glittered brightly and then darkened to a burnt orange with some hints of green at the edges. It was a striking color.

"Your eyes," Draco noted, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of her left hand.

"Holy shit," Lyra deadpanned. "You rich folks are not messing around with your jewelry." She rotated her hand to let the hazel gem and yellow gold catch the light. "I can't stop staring at it."

"If every engaged woman I've ever met in my life is any indication, that is normal," Draco offered with a smirk.

She gave him a hard stare and then flung herself at him, knocking him over and pinning him beneath her. "I love you so much," she told him.

Draco brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the ring. Lyra felt both her body and the ring quiver happily at the affectionate gesture.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replied.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- We're in the home stretch on this fic. I'm going to jump forward in time here a bit to hit the highlights I want to include in our happy ending. Happy reading! -MM


	59. Chapter 59

**October 2009**  
 **Wizarding Brooklyn, New York**  
 **Saturday Afternoon**

Lyra fidgeted nervously in front of the long mirror in her old bedroom at her parent's house. She vacantly fingered her wrist in search of her transfiguration bracelet. _Stop it, Black_ , she told herself.

She wasn't afraid of getting married. She was just afraid of falling on her face in front of the photographer.

She was startled from her worry by the sound of the door opening behind her.

"Oh honey, you look perfect."

Lyra smiled and turned to face her mother who looked sweet in a red wrap and purple earrings.

"You look pretty, momma," Lyra answered. "Where's dad?" She asked.

"He's going to meet us there," Mrs. Black replied, adjusting a small flower in Lyra's hair. "Ready?"

Lyra turned back and took a cursory glance at herself in the mirror. "Well, I guess I'll just have to do."

* * *

 **October 2009  
** **Wizarding Brooklyn, New York  
** **Saturday Afternoon**

"Come in," Draco said absentmindedly as he adjusted his collar in the dingy mirror of the proprietor's office above the bar where he was about to be married.

No, you read that correctly. Draco Malfoy, old of name and pure of blood, was about to marry his woman in a bloody pub.

They'd decided to have two ceremonies. Lyra wanted something quiet and simple but she didn't want to deny Narcissa the thrill and spectacle of a high society wedding, especially now that the Malfoys were en vogue again. They settled on having a private ceremony in New York and a big production in England.

"She's on her way," Alastair Black's rich voice came from behind him.

"She taking the floo?" Draco inquired.

"She wanted to walk," the older wizard replied.

Draco quirked his mouth in amusement. "Of course she did."

Lyra's father made a noise of agreement and walked up behind Draco so the younger man could see him in the mirror while he adjusted his outfit. He could tell that Draco was uncomfortable wearing something so informal for a wedding. Two years ago, he would have found the man's snobbery useless and insufferable, but now, he felt differently. This kid loved his daughter. She'd been in a pretty rough spot when she got out of prison. Scared, erratic, withdrawn. Draco had carried her through the worst and, maybe most importantly in his eyes, didn't hold her back when she felt well enough to put herself back out there in her career and friendships.

"Do you remember when we met, I said to you that I didn't care if you fucked this up?" Alastair asked.

Draco snorted. "It...rings a bell, yeah."

Lyra's father cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I changed my mind. I do care if you fuck it up and would prefer if you didn't."

Draco frowned and turned to face him. "Mr. Black, I hope I've made it clear that I wouldn't do anything..."

The older wizard shook his head and cut him off. "That came out wrong. I don't want you to fuck it up because I want you to stick around. You're a good kid and you love my daughter. More than that, you put yourself out there and help her get through the hard stuff. You make yourself uncomfortable for her, you try. That's priceless. Keep it up and you'll have yourself a hell of a good marriage. I want that for Lyra and I want that for you too."

Draco stared at the man dumbfounded. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't remember a moment in his life where a father figure had ever said anything like that to him. He furrowed his brow.

Alastair reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. He opened it and extended it to Draco. Inside was a set of silver cufflinks. They were round discs stamped with elegant star shapes.

"My great-grandfather gave these to my grandfather on his wedding day. He was the first Black to come to America and he spent most of his time working odd jobs and scrapping for change. The rumor is that he saved half a year's wages to buy these for his son. That's more than love, it's sacrifice and it's a good reminder to have on your sleeve the day you start a new family. My grandfather wore them, my father wore them, I wore them, and I ask that my sons wear them as well," he explained, handing them to Draco.

Draco stared down at them. Back when he was an idiot, he would have thought them plain. Now, he knew better. They represented generations of men who had worked hard to make life better for the people that they loved. He thought that was a much better thing to aspire to than power and influence crafted to maintain your wealth at the expense of others.

"I..." Draco started. He had no retort for this. No quip. He had nothing. This had never happened to him before. Also, he was just so very English and was preternaturally ill-equipped for this kind of emotion.

 _And I've rendered the poor kid mute. Nice work,_ old man, Alastair said to himself.

"Hey, I get it. Let's strip away the feelings and cut to the chase. You are my son now. Your son is my grandson. End of story and I will ruthlessly lay into anyone who questions it or says any different. You understand?"

Draco nodded tightly and tried to will away the growing lump in his throat. "Right. Yes. Thank you very much."

Alastair smiled at the shaken wizard and plucked the cufflinks out of their small box to help him put them on.

Draco's mother poked her head in from behind the door and smiled sweetly at them. "She's here. Best get downstairs, love" she said to her son.

They followed Narcissa down the front staircase and entered the main level of the old, oaken bar.

Draco had been here several times, passing through with Lyra between Wizarding and Muggle Brooklyn. It wasn't the ugliest dive he'd ever seen, there was The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade to contend with, after all. It looked, with it's dark wood, stone floors and arched ceilings, a more Irish version of any of the old storied pubs around Oxford. And he, in all of his snobbishness, had to admit that it looked pretty nice today.

Gretchen, Lyra's sister-in-law, was a muggle botanist and had commandeered the place, leaving it dripping with green ivy, orange lilies and white hydrangeas. His mother had charmed a number of fairy lights to float freely in the air, making it look like a night garden. It was a cloudy day outside, adding to the ambient coziness of the inside. He was impressed. For a muggle, Gretchen had done quite well.

Mr. Black guided him towards an offshoot of the main hall where the ceremony would take place. It was already full of their guests. There was an ornate stone fireplace at the back wall and his mother had assembled a stylish hodge-podge of leather couches, old upholstered chairs and overstuffed ottomans on both sides of the room, creating an aisle down the center. There was a single violinist in the corner playing something pretty and appropriately weddingesque. Draco took one look at the scene and knew Lyra would absolutely love it.

He met Lyra's mother just outside the room and she gave him a shameless kiss on the cheek before taking his arm and having him ceremonially guide Mr. and Mrs. Black to their seats. He then went back for his own mother and showed her to a seat in the front row where Pip, her insufferable Scottish boyfriend, was already waiting for her with a cheesy, presumably buzzed, smile on his face. Draco didn't like Pip, but he couldn't curse him unconscious even if he wanted to (which he did) because both Lyra and his mother adored him. Shame...

Draco went back one final time for Ron, the barkeep who would be officiating their wedding. In the little time that Draco had known him he understood him to be a huffy, typically grumpy man who just happened to have a soft spot for Lyra and her family. According to Ron, he'd never let anybody get married at the Seven Belles before and he probably never would again, but that the Blacks were the best sort of folk and, for them, he would make an exception. Draco walked shoulder to shoulder with him up to the fireplace. He shook the man's hand politely and then stepped off to the side and turned back to wait for his witch.

* * *

Lyra barely recognized Seven Belles when she walked in. Her sister and Draco's mom had really outdone themselves classing it up for the occasion. It was a nice looking pub most days, but today it looked like a woodnymph's haven...and with beer! It was amazing. When she arrived, she hugged and kissed her mom and Narcissa and then waited alone in a side nook, unseen until it was her time to walk in.

After a few minutes of anxious pacing and trying to slow her heart rate, Mella, her favorite barmaid came up to her and told her they were ready for her.

"Oh god, Mel. Oh god," she huffed, bending over to put her hands on her knees.

Her friend laughed. "Relax, doll. He's handsome, rich and loves you like crazy. I mean, if you're not interested..."

"Oh I'm interested," Lyra remarked. "I just need to vomit real quick."

"No you don't," Mella replied, pulling her up and holding her by both arms. "You will not throw up in this dress. Say it."

Lyra breathed in deep. "I will not throw up in this dress."

"Good. Now drink this and get outta here," she said, forcing a shot of amber liquid into her hand.

"Right. Thanks," Lyra sputtered before slamming the shot, grabbing her flowers and walking out to go get herself married.

As she walked, she heard the sound of her guests rising to their feet and heard a lovely crescendo from a violin somewhere that had her thinking for a split second ' _Ooh! Where's the bride?!'_

 _Oh shit. It's me. The bride is me. God I'm so nervous. I want Draco. I wish he was here. Oh, wait a minute...there he is._

* * *

Draco stopped breathing when he saw her.

She looked like a goddess. She wore a cream colored gown that had a deep V down to her waist which exposed and accentuated the smooth inner curve of her breasts. It was risque, but not indecent. The dress had no sleeves and the skin of her shoulders looked warm like creamed coffee. The soft muslin of her skirt was voluminous but sheer enough to let the light through and gave the dress an ethereal glow. He recognized his mother's handiwork on her make up and figured that Gretchen had wrangled her long hair. It was done in a whispy, romantic updo with gentle curls and little daisy flowers throughout with a small crown of English ivy encircling her head.

Her face at first looked unsure, but he watched her carefully and saw her make some kind of internal decision before she looked up for him and smiled beautifully as she made her way down the aisle.

When Lyra finally came to the front, she vaguely remembered handing her flowers to her mother in the front row and that Ron asked her and Draco to hold hands. Ron carried on saying some stuff about love or whatever but Lyra heard nothing. Her eyes were transfixed on her husband to be.

He was so handsome that it was almost insulting. Lyra had told him that he could wear whatever he wanted, but cautioned that full on dress robes might look a bit out of place in a bar. Draco had done some truly inspiring bellyaching about the dilemma but then finally punted the issue to his fashionable mother and told her to work her magic.

And work her magic she did. How she could make him look like that? Why did he always look so good?! He was wearing black trousers in the soft fabric that Lyra loved, a dark gray vest over a white dress shirt and a black tie. His hair was even styled in that casual sweep she adored. How was she supposed to pay attention and say vows with him looking like this? How was she supposed to do anything but drool at him for the rest of her life. _And just look at the way he's smiling at me...the smug bastard..._

 _"_ Lyra," a voice said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, what?" She said tearing her eyes reluctantly off of her fiancee and turning to Ron, who apparently had been trying to get her attention. Their guests laughed pleasantly and gave a few 'Awwwws' at Lyra's clear oogling and lack of situational awareness. Draco chuckled at her and squeezed her hands reassuringly.

"Have you come here of your own free will to join your life to that of this wizard?" He asked.

"I have," she confirmed.

"And what quality will you be casting into your bond?"

Lyra looked down and blushed at her feet. "Passion," she said quietly, leading to some raucous whoops from her friends, mostly the Aurors.

"And have you, Draco, come here of your own free will to join your life to that of this witch?"

"I have," Draco replied.

"What quality have you chosen to cast into your bond?

"Loyalty," he said quietly at Lyra, who looked up at him with pale gold eyes and smiled.

"Your wands, please," Ron said, in an uncharacteristically formal tone. He was taking this very seriously, Lyra could tell.

They drew their wands and Draco and Lyra clasped each other at the left forearm. Ron cast a spell that made a glowing gold cord encircle their joined hands and wrists.

Lyra raised her wand and muttered her incantation. As she did so, a chord of vibrant red emerged from her wand and joined the gold around their grip.

Draco followed suit and cast his loyalty onto their bond, further uniting their hands with a shimmering blue ribbon of light.

Ron performed a final spell that joined all three streams of magic into a brilliant silver coil of before it disappeared, leaving Lyra's hand and arm buzzing with warm energy.

They decided to exchange rings at their ceremony in England, so the final bit was just the proclamation.

Lyra looked at Draco excitedly and he did the same back at her.

"Under my authority and in the presence of your friends and family, let it be known that you are now joined as witch and wizard, husband and wife. May you be passionate, may you be loyal and may you be together now and for the rest of your days," Ron pronounced proudly before turning to Draco and cracking a silly grin. "That's your bride, son. Better kiss her before she comes to her senses."

Draco smirked handsomely and pulled Lyra in by the waist for a kiss. His heart was pounding in his ears but he could barely hear it over the sound of all of the loud Americans cheering like it was a bloody football match. He came back from their kiss and looked with adoration at his favorite loud American who was smiling up at him brilliantly.

"Loud American!?" She protested to him in mock offense, reading his thoughts. "I am your wife!" She said tugging him into her by the tie for another kiss, which only served to make the other loud Americans cheer more loudly, which set Lyra off laughing.

 _My wife_ , Draco thought to himself as he gathered her close into his side and led her back down the aisle to the front of the pub so they could drink whiskey and receive their guests.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- This made me happy to write. I hope you like it. -MM


	60. Chapter 60

**Author's Note -** M rated at the end. Just a heads up that chapter 61 will be the last chapter in this fic. Please fav/follow/reivew! -MM

* * *

 **December 2009**  
 **Wizarding Wiltshire, England**  
 **Friday Evening**

Lyra stepped out into the bright lightning of camera flash as she exited the black carriage that had relayed her to the central temple in Wiltshire. The temple had been built by the Malfoy family in the 1600's and was an intimidating place, severe in its beauty. In the snow, it looked like a fortress of cold rock and ice. It frightened Lyra a little, but her husband was in there, so it would take a lot more than that to keep her out.

Speaking of said spouse, it turned out that society weddings were insane, and none more so than a Malfoy wedding. In Draco's family, wedding ceremonies were modeled after the romance (or lack thereof) between Merlin and Niviane. Lyra had pointed out on multiple occasions to both her husband and his mother that things ended rather badly for Merlin, because Niviane more or less killed him and it was a weird way to get married, but whatever.

Her role in all this was to literally bust down the door to get to her betrothed. Typically the more frightening and fantastic the entrance, the better. Lyra was competitive and loved a challenge, so she planned on making it interesting, but she wanted to be sure she tempered it a bit because Scorpius was inside and she was not about to give her little spider monkey any nightmares.

The press corps was huge outside of the building. This was, apparently, the social event of the year and everybody had been pestering Narcissa, Astoria, Ginny and even poor Azalea for details about every stitch and petal.

Lyra raised an eyebrow at the photographers and smiled. She was cloaked in black, but her hair was down and swirling around her shoulders wildly in the wind. She felt cool as hell. She hoped she looked cool. She drew her wand and cast an augmentation to the warming spell that hung over the reporters who would, with only one exception, be stuck out in the cold.

They gave her a few mumbles of gratitude and encouragement before she turned back to the dark wooden doors of the temple. She and Narcissa had gone over this bit ad nauseam, like everything else. She knew what to do.

"Game on, baby," she said to Draco, hoping he would hear her somehow.

She walked up to the doors and pounded three times, hearing excited mutters and shushes on the other side. She waited a moment and knocked a second time. Again, she got no response. She waited a moment and then assailed the door with three final knocks. The force from them rattled the giant door impressively and sounded awesome. Ok, for all of Lyra's whining, the whole pursuit and trickery approach to wedded bliss, while not advisable in daily life, was kind of cool on special occasions.

Lyra backed up and made a little show of pacing angrily in front of the door, partially for the cameras, but mostly for Draco, who she figured was watching and loving every second. She raised her wand and took a deep breath. She extinguished all of the lights inside the temple and cast a large orb over the roof that glowed with an eerie green light. She set a heavy mist into the air that was scented with eucalyptus and cool rain, her scent.

She refocused and steeled herself for her next spell. She'd been practicing it for weeks and really hoped she got it right. She pointed her wand at the ground and whispered the words. She heard a noise like a growl and then felt what she'd been expecting. The earth started vibrating under her feet. She could hear the tinkling of crystal from the chandeliers inside and heard a feminine shriek that was most definitely Astoria. She smiled.

She took aim at the green orb she'd cast over the roof and made it explode, raining a shower of glowing scorpions on to the roof that scuttled menacingly down over the windows. She summoned a torrent of sound to finish this part of her performance. Thunder, howling werewolves, growling gremlins and a whisper of Parseltongue that sounded terrifying, but was actually a rough translation suggesting that, given the chance, Zabini would probably make out with his own mother. Lyra just barely registered Harry's laugh over the noise, which probably made everyone around him think he was nuts.

She let the light from her scorpions die out and slowly eased off the tremor she'd created. She let the sound reach a fever pitch before she cut if off abruptly and left her wedding guests in darkness, with the haunting blow of the winter wind being the only remaining sound. The next step in her plan was to do nothing. So she did nothing until she started hearing confused whispers come from inside.

 _Alright, Black. Get in there._ She ran her wand around her head, pulling her long hair back into a sleek chignon. She stomped confidently up to the door and flung it open with a lyrical flourish of her wrist. It made an impressive sound and she strutted confidently into the temple.

She came in on a swirl of frigid snow, the cape of her black cloak billowing behind her. She looked fierce. She looked like Severus. Draco got the distinct impression that that was the point and it made his lips curl up at the thought. She stood at the back of the temple and looked down the long stone aisle, lined with pews of friends, acquaintances and people neither Draco or Lyra had ever met in their lives.

Draco had his wand drawn and relit the chandeliers and lanterns in the cavernous room with an impressive roar.

"Mr. Malfoy," Lyra said darkly, with a nod to Draco at the opposite end of the aisle.

"Miss Black," he replied.

An attendant came up behind Lyra and took her cloak. Even from a distance, she saw Draco's eyes darken as he looked her over. She was in a stunning black ballgown. It was strapless and had a long jet train with a strip of coat buttons down the back. She was wearing a pair of Narcissa's earrings, dangling crescent moons in cool platinum and diamonds. Her eyes were burning deep butterscotch from out of her smokey black eye makeup and her lips were colored a luscious blood red that looked absolutely sinful with her black dress and hair.

She walked proudly down the aisle with her wand still out, acknowledging nobody but her stepson, who peaked his little face out at her with an adorable smile and was rewarded with a tiny smirk and a wink.

She reached the front and ascended the stone stairs with a hand from the master of ceremonies. Apparently, Lyra and Draco were not allowed to touch until they exchanged rings. This was to ensure Lyra's purity. Draco had told her that in bed one night while he was still physically inside her and it made her laugh and laugh.

She reached the top and stood next to Draco. She looked over and gave her big blonde the exact same smirk she'd just given her little blonde. He broke his scowl for just a second to smile at her.

The emcee started in on his long monologue about tradition and Lyra tried harder this time to pay attention, but it was difficult with Draco looking the way he did. He was in full formal dress robes that went high at the neck. They were predictably black on black with dragonscale accents that flashed like obsidian. She noticed he was wearing her father's cufflinks though, instead of some onyx boulders. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she studied him. _Ugh. Will there ever be a situation, either dressed or undressed where you don't look painfully sexy?_ She asked him in her head.

He leaned imperceptibly closer to her. _Probably not_ , he replied in a cocky mental broadcast.

After a few more captivating words from the emcee, he got started on the responsive bit and Lyra had to tune back in and stop eye-fucking her husband.

"Wizard, how are you called and what are your houses?" The ancient wizard asked haughtily.

"Sir, I am called Draco Abraxas and I am of the houses of Malfoy and Black," Draco replied.

"Son of the house of Malfoy, will you have this witch? Will you give her your name, your consideration and your heirs? Will you provide for her and protect her as a lady of your blood? If you will do these things, speak the words."

"In the spirit of Merlin and my fathers before me, I take this witch," Draco replied smoothly.

The man then turned to Lyra.

"Witch, how are you called and what are you houses?"

Lyra inhaled nervously. "Sir, I am called Lyra Lily and I am of the houses of Black and Calderon," she answered.

"Daughter of the house of Black, will you have this wizard? Will you accept his name? Will you bear his children and will you support him in his pursuits, both magical and non? If you will do these things, speak the words."

Lyra didn't love the misogynistic double standard, but the old man hadn't said anything Lyra was unwilling to do, so she went with it.

"In the spirit of Niviane and my mothers before me, I take this wizard," she replied.

Draco glanced over at her and saw a lovely blush rising over the swell of her breasts, which were pushed up beautifully from the tight corset of her gown. He was quite looking forward to getting her alone and out of that dress once the reception was over.

"You have brought tokens of promise for each other. Please give them now," the emcee commanded.

Draco turned to Caelum, his best man, and retrieved Lyra's wedding band. He took her hand gently and slid it over her finger to lock into her engagement ring. Lyra looked down at it and noticed that it had gold projections on the bottom side of it so that now, her ring looked more like a drifting star, than a rising sun. Lyra smiled down at it and beamed up at Draco. He drew his wand and muttered a few spells over it to join it to the other part of the ring and bind it to her. Lyra felt the same magic that she did when he gave her her engagement ring.

They looked down at it together as the metal of the ring changed from gold to silver and the center stone changed from burnt amber to vibrant green. Lyra recognized it immediately. "Scorpius," she whispered.

Draco ran his thumb over the stone and smiled.

Lyra turned back to let Ginny hand her Draco's ring. She had been working on it for months. It was a white gold signet with a black face. It had belonged to Severus and carried his signature protective enchantments. Severus himself had helped her learn how to further augment the ring with charms and some object legilimency. It wasn't as pretty as hers, to be sure, but it was special and she had done the work herself. She was proud of it.

She put the ring on his finger and drew her wand to spell it for him. He looked down at it as the magic tingled up his arm.

"Where did you get this?" He asked curiously.

"Later," she whispered.

They reconvened for the next portion of the ceremony where Draco was supposed to present his betrothed with the choice of one of three gifts, two that were worthy of her and one that was not. It was essentially his job to trick her into picking the stupid one. In most pureblood weddings that contained this tradition, it was largely a farce, where the wizard would steer his woman towards some unbelievable piece of beautiful jewelry, lest their marriage start out with any hurt feelings. Lyra was really hoping Draco would feel that way too.

Well, Draco did not feel that way and was clearly having fun with it. After a few minutes, she narrowed her eyes in annoyance and poked at his mind, but he was blocking her. _You punk,_ she thought. She closed her eyes and pointed haphazardly at one of the levitating black boxes. It floated over to Draco and he opened it, showing it to her.

"This was my second choice," he admitted.

Lyra's jaw dropped. It was a wrap collar necklace in the shape of a snake dripping with diamonds and emeralds. It probably cost what Lyra made in salary for a decade.

Draco picked it up from the velvet lining of the box and wrapped it gently around her neck. It looked beautiful on her.

She trailed her fingers along the snake's diamond tail. "Wow," was all she could say.

Draco smiled at her. "You can have the others when we get home," he whispered.

They came back to attention for the placement of the bond, which in their case was a reaffirmation, since they were already married. This time, when Lyra admitted that her contribution to the bond was passion, the only undignified noise came from a single idiot groomsman. Zabini whistled with enthusiasm and not a single person in attendance was surprised that he did so.

The long ceremony was adjourned by the old wizard wishing them success, many children and unwavering adherence to their traditions. Lyra smiled tightly at him and then Draco and Lyra were permitted to bow to one another and Lyra took his arm as they headed out together, to the polite British applause of their guests.

Draco helped Lyra into the black carriage that would allow them a few minutes privacy as they rode back to the manor for the reception. He cast a warming charm over them and pulled her into his arms for a long kiss.

"So, do you feel like a Malfoy now?" Draco asked playfully, running his fingers along her arm.

She smirked at him. "Oh yes, darling. My transition is complete now that Voldemort's granddad up there told us to respect our archaic traditions and have a thousand pureblood babies."

He snorted. "Bullocks. You liked causing an earthquake and breaking a door down to get to me. Admit it."

She smiled, leaning in to him. "I did like it. I felt so cool. Was it cool on the inside? I didn't scare the kid, did I?"

"It was cool. Scorpius loved it," he replied.

"Good."

"Where did you get this ring?" Draco asked.

"It was Severus's. It has his protective enchantments, and he steered me at some old manuals to help me beef it up a little. Let me show you."

She picked up Draco's left hand and ran her finger across the ring's black face. It turned emerald green at her touch and Draco was able to hear her thoughts without the slightest discomfort.

 _I hope you like it. I've never done anything like this before. I thought it might come in handy when we're in a crowd, or in the bedroom_ , she thought at him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"That's brilliant, thank you," he said, giving her a quick kiss. He loved the idea of having something on him at all times that she made herself, just for him.

* * *

 **December 2009  
Malfoy Manor  
** **Wizarding Wiltshire, England  
** **Friday Evening**

Their wedding reception was a beautiful blur of ice sculptures, champagne toasts and unfamiliar faces. There were, however, a few notable moments. Ginny's hilarious speech where she informed Draco that she'd recently changed her mind on thinking snakes were awful and would be looking for her diamond necklace in the post. The adorable moment where Scorpius cut in on his own father to steal a dance with his stepmother. The unbelievable improbability of Harry and Draco agreeing to be photographed together, provided Lyra was in the middle.

Lyra's favorite part of the the evening was after all of their more formal guests had left, leaving only their core friends and family. Lyra was resting in a chair across from Draco with her feet in his lap.

"So, what did you think, woman?" Draco asked her, pressing his thumb into her arch and making her groan pleasurably.

"Well, I love this part, but we hardly need to break out the fine china for you to rub my feet," she teased with a little smile.

"You didn't have any fun until now?" He prodded, pouting.

"I had fun, baby. It was beautiful and I'm glad we did it," she reassured him.

"Good," he said in satisfaction. "If we could pry your bloody mates from the bar, I'd like to take you home and have some more fun with you."

Lyra looked over and saw a hodge-podge of British and American Aurors getting wasted and talking shop. She smiled broadly at the sight. "Useless, all of them. They'll be fine," she said. She sneaked her foot inside Draco's jacket and ran her toe along his belt suggestively. "Take me home. I want you inside me," she purred.

* * *

 **December 2009  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Friday Evening**

 _Fuck. Just like that_ , Lyra said to him in her mind. She was on top of him, rocking herself smoothly back and forth over his hips, Draco gripping tightly onto her thighs. He loved watching her work like this. The seductive roll of her stomach muscles, the sweat beading finely across her chest, her long hair cascading down her back like black waves. He caught the glimmer of her wedding ring in the low light as she ran her hands over her breasts for more stimulation.

 _God, look at you. You're so fucking gorgeous, baby_ , she told him trailing a hand down his pale chest. _And you feel...oh my god...you feel so good. Nothing feels better than you do._

"Careful, sweetheart. You don't want me getting full of myself, do you?" He replied to her thoughts with a devilish grin.

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed," she answered with a laugh.

Draco grabbed her hard by the waist and flipped her over.

Lyra's surprised squeak faded into a husky moan when her husband pinned her with his hips and pushed his stiff length back inside her.

 _Are you gonna come?_ She questioned wordlessly.

"Maybe," he replied with a smirk. "Do you want me to?"

Lyra nodded frantically. _Yes. Please. Fuck, please._

Draco groaned. He loved it when she got like this. She was pure, desperate lust and she was so fucking sexy. He had a bit left in him though and decided that he wanted to drive her a little crazy.

He slowed his pace, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her quite roughly to the side. He dropped his head and sank his blunt teeth into the tender flesh of her neck.

Lyra keened and started moving her hips to make up for his lack of urgency. He smiled into her shoulder and pulled out of her halfway.

She actually snorted in frustration. It was clear, it was shameless and it was hilarious. He laughed and moved to look at her face, which was flushed and adorably enraged.

"Baby, come on!" She protested.

"Gods, you're so sexy when you snort," Draco told her.

Her eyes flashed at him in in a wordless challenge and her scowl relaxed into a cute pout. She gripped his ass with both hands and pulled him all the way back into her, making a sweet noise of satisfaction as she did so.

"You don't want to come inside me?" She questioned, with an offended little frown. She raised a defiant eyebrow. "Fine. Get out," she said seriously.

Draco furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"Go on. Out," she said and wiggled away from him. She got up and walked over to the corner of the room for the chair that rested just next to a seldom used armoire.

"Sweetheart, what the devil are you doing? I was just having a bit of fun. Get back here," Draco petitioned. He'd wanted to drive her a little crazy, not full on.

She didn't respond to him and dragged the chair over, over stationing it at the end of the bed. She looked darkly at him and pointed back to the chair. "Sit," she commanded.

"Lyra," Draco began.

"Sit," she said forcefully.

Draco sighed. He'd done it now. He'd turned his pretty wife into a nutter by withholding his cock from her. He could hardly blame her, it was a truly marvelous cock. He got up with a grumble and plunked himself down dejectedly in the chair.

Lyra leaned down next to him and he instinctively reached out for her body, but she pulled back, careful not to let him touch her. "You will stay here until I tell you otherwise, do you understand?"

Draco made to argue, but a hard look from his witch stopped him. He leaned into the armrest and dropped his chin into his hand, lips curled down in disappointment.

Lyra crawled slowly onto the bed with her ass high in the air for him to see. She then laid down on her back, just out of his reach and started running her hands over her own body. She sucked decadently on a finger and trailed it down to circle one of her rosy pink nipples. The sensation made her instinctively flex her hips and she heard Draco sigh deeply.

She ran her hands over her flat stomach and down her hips. She raised her knees and let her legs open like butterfly wings out to the side, putting herself on display in front of him.

He groaned and Lyra lifted her chin to hide her smile from him. She lightly combed her fingers through the damp thicket of hair over her sex and hummed. She drew a finger down her wet slit a few times, teasing at her clit when she passed it.

"Do you know what I think about when I touch myself, baby?" She asked him, spreading her outer lips to expose the pink flesh inside.

"Tell me," he replied, his voice thick.

"Sometimes, I think about when we used to be so desperate for each other that we couldn't keep ourselves from coming," she told him, slipping a finger inside herself. "You would rip my clothes, ruin them, just to get to me, remember?"

"Yes," he answered, feeling himself grow painfully hard.

She started building herself to climax, pumping her fingers in and out and tracing her clit with gentle swipes of her thumb.

"Mmmm," she moaned. "Sometimes, I put my fingers in my pussy and try to imagine what it must feel like for you when you're inside me."

Draco leaned forward in the chair and tried to commit her writhing beauty to memory. She was magnificent, he was concerned for a moment that he would embarrass himself in the chair, before he had a chance to get back to her. _I played this all wrong_ , he thought to himself.

"Do I feel good?" She whispered.

He swallowed hard. "Incredible."

She smiled. "Do you want to know what it feels like? To have you inside me?" She asked.

"Yes," he whispered.

She bit her lip, pushed deep into herself and moaned. "You feel like steel wrapped in warm silk and when you come," she broke off to make a little strangled noise in her throat. "Fuck, when you come inside me it feels like I'm more yours than ever. Like we've done something perfect together. Like we complete each other."

"Merlin, you're killing me," he groaned. _I am no match for her_ , he told himself.

"I'm gonna come, baby," she whined.

Draco made a torn, undignified sound. He wanted to be inside her so badly, but he didn't want to stop her either. It was making him crazy.

She sensed his distress and stopped. She pulled her fingers from her wet depths and sat up. "Come here."

He rushed into her arms, flattening her onto her back. He guided himself back inside and felt her body stretch around him, cradling him in her slick heat. She was right. They were made for each other.

He drove into her wildly, unable to control his speed or depth. He reached into her thoughts and found no pain, only the notion that he was giving her exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed and she loved him madly for it. He buried himself inside her and came so hard that his vision went white and he thought his heart might explode. She followed him over the edge and pressed her face into the side of his neck, shouting praise at him and invoking the names of several deities he knew she didn't believe in.

He hovered his face over hers, trying to catch his breath. "You win," he panted to her.

"It's not about winning, baby," she breathed back.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "Really?"

Her face broke into a playful grin. "Nah. Not this time. I played you. I played you and you fucking loved it."

Draco smiled down at her. "My wife, the snake."

She laughed and pulled him down for a kiss.


	61. Chapter 61

**July 2011  
** **Wizarding Manhattan, New York  
** **Thursday Morning**

Lyra buried her face in Draco's shoulder and let the pain wrack her body. He murmured reassurances into her sweat soaked hair and pressed the heel of one of his hands hard on her lower back like Ginny had showed him.

She had been in labor for approximately a thousand years and was surely going to die. In between a set of contractions, Draco had asked her to describe what it felt like and she told him that it felt like the Cruciatus curse localized to her stomach and crotch. The Cruciatus was actually preferable because it battered all parts of the body equally, she'd informed him.

After it passed, she let him lay her down and tried to catch her breath. Draco ran his hand in soothing circles over her swollen belly and studied her flushed face. He cast a cooling charm over her and she mumbled appreciatively to him before letting her eyes drop closed.

Astoria had preferred to labor alone, but Lyra wanted him right there. He stayed with her until the midwife asked him to step out for delivery. He leaned anxiously on the wall in the hallway, heart clenching painfully with every one of her screams. It felt like ages had gone by and it took him everything he had not to break the door down to sate his desperate need for reassurance that she was safe. He'd just thrown himself miserably into a chair when Lyra gave a particularly terrifying shout and his entire body tensed in fear. He doubled over in relief when he heard their baby give its first cry.

He paced tirelessly outside the door until they let him back in. He rushed over to the end of her bed and stood frozen for a moment, stunned by the sight of her. She was beautifully flushed and her loose delivery gown was slipped off one shoulder. She was cradling a tiny bundle of blankets to her exposed breast and he could just make out a disheveled mess of black hair. The blankets shifted gently and he saw a little pink hand reach up and grip onto Lyra's skin.

"See something you like there, Frog?" His wife asked him, sounding quite smug.

He was incapable of speaking so he dumbly shuffled over to her side and sat on the bed facing her...them. He looked at Lyra and raised his eyebrows in question.

"Our daughter," she informed him.

He tried to swallow the lump rising in his throat and raised his hand to gently cradle the baby's head. Her hair felt like the softest down and she was making contented little sounds as she fed from her mother.

"How are you, sweetheart?" He asked Lyra, reaching up to cup her cheek.

"Never again," she deadpanned.

He smirked handsomely at her.

"And why would we need to? We already have two perfect children. Our work here is done. Not that you did any of said work, you bastard," she quipped.

He leaned in and kissed her, licking the salt from her top lip.

"I love you," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, baby," she replied, beaming up at him. "Now what do you want to name this kid? Scorpius has predictably suggested Scorpius, which I think is ill-fitting because she's a girl and it would get so confusing at dinner. Your thoughts?"

He laughed. "I'm not sure. I think we should get to know her a bit first, don't you?"

She looked down at their daughter. "Yeah, you're probably right. See what she's all about. Right now, she's all about boobs, which I will assume she gets from you."

After feeding her, Lyra handed the baby off to Draco and promptly fell asleep. Draco wandered over to the window seat and settled in to study his daughter's face. Lyra's hair and natural pout with his nose and high cheekbones. She was a perfect little blending of their features. They already had an inkling that she would have Draco's icy gray eyes because Lyra's wedding ring had changed color to alert her of her pregnancy and had turned the same shade. She was going to be absolutely beautiful, he could tell.

"My daughter," he said aloud to himself. She stirred in her blankets and cracked an eye at him. She regarded him with suspicion and he smiled. "That's alright, love. You really can't be too careful these days. I'm your daddy." That seemed an acceptable response to her because she fell immediately back to sleep.

He held her close until she woke and started to fuss, then he stood and danced around with her a bit to comfort her. He glanced over and saw Lyra watching him with a small smile on her face. "I can take her, baby. You probably have about infinity owls to send, I'd imagine," she joked.

He looked down at his little girl and knew that didn't want to put her down for a second. Maybe ever.

"That will be a very interesting set of photographs when she leaves for school," his wife pointed out, reading his thoughts.

"I know," he replied. He pressed a kiss to his daughters nose and handed her off to her mother, who cooed at her sweetly before settling her in on her chest.

* * *

 **July 2011  
** **Wizarding Manhattan, New York  
** **Thursday Evening**

"She's so small," Scorpius remarked, snuggling deeper into his stepmother's side as he regarded his baby sister.

"Yeah, but you like her though right? I mean, I can't just put her back," Lyra informed him, planting a loud kiss on the top of his head.

Scorpius reached out and let the baby grip on to one of his fingers. She was looking up at him like she thought he was pretty interesting. He shrugged. "I like her," he confirmed. "She's cute, but all she does is eat and sleep. She's like a little bear," he observed.

Lyra tilted her head and looked up at her husband.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "I think it fits, yeah."

"What fits?" Scorpius inquired.

"You named the baby," Lyra informed him proudly.

"You mean little bear?" He asked.

"Ursula. It means bear," Lyra explained.

"What's her middle name? Can it be after gran? I think she'd like that," Scorpius added.

Lyra mused. "I think that's very nice. What do you think, baby?" She asked, looking over to Draco.

"I love it," he replied.

* * *

 **November 2011  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Saturday Afternoon**

Thanks to her grandmother, Ursula Narcissa Malfoy had one hell of a dedication ceremony. Lyra had never seen so many charmed doves in her whole damned life. Caelum and Gretchen were honored as godparents and Ursa got more presents than any four month old child should ever have. It was ludicrous, and very sweet.

Lyra had taken a respite from the festivities to tend to Preston Nott's skinned knee and had just walked back into the party with the little boy in her arms.

"Thanks, little-bit," Theo said to her as she handed him his son. "He has a penchant for flesh wounds."

Lyra ran her fingers through Preston's whispy blonde hair as he sucked his thumb. "He likes adventure," she noted. "Which is fine, when you do it where daddy or mummy or Auntie Lyra can see you, yes?" She said to the boy who smiled deviously at her.

Speaking of devious, she scanned the crowd further until she found Draco. She took a step towards him before she froze, realizing what he was doing. He was sitting at a table, holding their daughter, just talking to Harry Potter. No wands, no fists, no impending signs of battle. _That's something you don't see every day_ , she told herself.

* * *

 **October 2015  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Friday Afternoon**

"Momma, I want to go to the park."

"Ok, baby."

"I want a biscuit."

"That's fine. You can have one."

"I want Scorpius."

Lyra looked up from her MCUSA case report and frowned at her daughter. Scorpius had left for Hogwarts six weeks earlier and it was all she could talk about. She wanted to know where he was, what he was doing, if he had anybody there to give him hugs and if he remembered her.

Ursa loved her big brother. She thought he was the end-all authority on just about everything. Scorpius adored her and enjoyed being the only person, aside from Draco, who could talk her into surrender when she went on a tear. Lyra was useless at it, primarily because she and her daughter were exactly the same person.

"Do you want to write him a letter? I'll help you," she offered.

Ursa thought about it for a moment. "No," she said very resolutely.

"Come here," Lyra said, dropping her quill and opening her arms to her.

Ursa climbed into her mother's lap and snuggled into her spot on her shoulder.

"I miss him too, baby," Lyra confessed. She did. Draco had caught her crying secretly in the bathroom about it just a few weeks prior. It was a Wednesday. They always had Scorpius on Wednesdays. Lyra had forgotten he was gone and got him some crumble-crusts from her mother before coming home from work only to realize that he wouldn't be there.

She sighed and Ursa started to cry. Lyra wrapped her up in her arms and rocked to soothe her, trying not to cry herself. It broke her heart. "Oh, sweetie," she cooed.

The floo came to life and Draco stepped out, looking for his girls. He frowned in concern when he saw Lyra holding his daughter who was crying.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

Lyra opened her mouth to explain, but Ursa turned to him and took the lead. "Daddy, Momma and me miss Scorpius and we need to see him right away," she said matter-of-factly in between her sniffles. Lyra smiled at him above her head and pressed a kiss to her baby's black hair.

"Is that so," Draco said, removing his jacket.

"Yes it is," Ursa replied confidently, going full Malfoy.

Draco heard the floo roar behind him and he smiled and looked back. "Scorpius, you've got a couple of birds here dying to see you," he said to his son who was emerging into the living room adjusting his green tie.

"What?" Scorpius asked, looking up a moment before he was rendered temporarily deaf by an ear-splitting squeal of glee from his sister who flew into him so quickly that she nearly knocked him over with the force of her hug.

"Up up up!" She then said to him reaching her arms out.

He smiled and picked her up. "You alright, little bear?"

"You remember!" She squeaked, grabbing both of his cheeks excitedly.

He raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Of course I do. Noisy thing like you is hard to forget."

Ursa made several especially loud noises to get his goat and then launched into her tale of everything that had happened to her since she'd seen him last. Everything. He set her on the couch and sat next to her trying to keep up with her all of her stories.

"Scorpius," Lyra said gently to him, stealing his attention away from the little one.

He jumped to his feet and walked into her embrace.

Lyra wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and buried her nose in his white hair. "You alright kiddo? Nobody's being mean to you? Anybody I have to hex the eyeballs out of? You know that you can always go to the headmistress, she's the best..."

"Gods, you're almost as bad as my mother," he said with a smile, squeezing her a little tighter.

"Your mother is a good egg," Lyra protested, rubbing her cheek on his head.

"You're a good egg too," he informed her.

She pulled back from him, taking his pale face in her hands. "Thanks, spider monkey," she quipped, before leaning in to rain kisses on his forehead while he tried (not very hard) to wiggle away.

He spent the afternoon on the couch wedged in between his stepmum and sister who peppered him with questions about school and begged him to show off some of the spells he'd learned. He was enjoying Hogwarts, making friends and proving himself, but he missed his family and was so relieved when Draco showed up to bring him home for the weekend. When Scorpius saw his father waiting for him in one of the stone passageways, he scanned the area cautiously to make sure no one was around and then ran into his arms, grateful for the familiar feeling.

* * *

 **October 2015  
** **Wizarding London, England  
** **Friday Night**

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lyra complained to her husband in their bathroom mirror while they prepared for bed.

"Because it negates the very nature of the concept of a surprise," Draco replied snottily.

"Because you missed him something fierce and you were going to go get him anyway," Lyra theorized.

"Something like that," he said back to her with a smile.

"He looks so much like you did, it's unreal," she mused, absentmindedly running her hand over the soft fabric of his shirt.

"He's a handsome lad," Draco noted smugly.

"You're a handsome lad," his wife quipped at him, pressing a deep kiss to his jaw. "Thank you for bringing him home," she whispered, turning away to head into the bedroom.

Draco pulled her back to him by the waist and crowded her little body between his own and the marble vanity behind her. "Where are you rushing off to, sweetheart?"

She smirked up at him. "House full of kids and now you wanna knock boots with me?" She questioned.

"Sprogs or no, I always want to 'knock boots' with you, you shamelessly American thing," he said, lowering his head to kiss along her neck and shoulder.

She dropped her head back and let him run his soft lips across her skin. She melted into him with a happy sigh and slipped her hands under the hem of his t-shirt to drag her nails over the small of his back.

He hummed into her shoulder and pressed his clothed erection into her belly. Without warning he picked her up and carried her in to their bedroom, dropping her on the bed unceremoniously. She was wearing a little white nightdress that made her skin look like warm caramel and she opened her legs suggestively for him. She was so beautiful. He flung himself on top of her and sealed their lips together.

Lyra kissed him back recklessly and Draco reached out to her mind to see what had her so hot.

 _Mmmm, sex now and tomorrow...pancakes, fuck yeah._

Draco pulled back and looked down at her confused.

"Shhh," she soothed, rubbing her foot down the back of his calf. "Don't over think it, baby," she said with a grin.

He opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced when she used her strong legs and abdominal muscles to flip him on to his back and straddle him. She grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled it over her head, revealing her bare body to him. He made a sound between a growl and a purr and grabbed her slender hips.

Her husband looked up at her with hooded eyes and she bit her lip, grinding her naked center over the soft fabric of his pajama pants.

"But sex now, yeah?" Draco questioned in a husky voice.

"Oh hell yes, sex now. That's what I just said," Lyra confirmed, diving down to claim his mouth with her own.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- That's it! We're done! My first fic! Thank you for reading and thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers. I am writing a prequel to this fic called **The Rook** which I've started to post and am planning a few one-shots from the timeline of this story as well. Thanks again! Muah! -MM


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